


Unreasonable Silence

by FightingIrish1298



Category: The Walking Dead (Video Games), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other, Philosophy, The walking dead game - Freeform, telltale games - Freeform, twdg - Freeform, walking dead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FightingIrish1298/pseuds/FightingIrish1298
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Burns, a workaholic attorney with a lonely past finds himself braving the apocalypse with a special little girl, Clementine, at his side. The two forge in the fire of the apocalypse an unlikely friendship as Anthony teaches Clementine philosophy and helps her fight the absurd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: End of the Line

This was it: the end of the line.  Anthony Burns was out of gas and out of options. He opened the door of his black Mercedes 2600 sedan and thrust his overweight body outside. Before reaching in the back of the car for his pack, Anthony glanced at the sign next to the freeway. _Gil’s Pit Stop._ That was his best—only—option. Anthony opened the back door of his car and grabbed his backpack. He checked inside. Three water bottles, two bagels, a common butcher knife, some handgun he had found with eight rounds—Anthony had never been a gun guy, and his Notre Dame class ring. Anthony didn’t know he had the class ring with him. He certainly wouldn’t have brought it with him; it must have been in the bag before he packed it. Anthony never stayed in touch with any of his college friends, but remembering the past may be more important now than ever. He slipped the class ring on his right ring finger. What was this? Two books were in here, too. No. Three books. Voltaire’s _Candide,_ Albert Camus’ _The Myth of Sisyphus,_ and Dante’s _Inferno._ Anthony hadn’t read these books in years. Then again, he hadn’t used the backpack in years, and when he packed it he wasn’t worried about current contents. Oh well. He held onto the books for now. As if he’d have any time to sit and read. Anthony snorted.

Anthony put everything back in the bag—except for the gun. Anthony tightly gripped the unidentified handgun he had found lying in the street a few weeks ago. He had never fired a gun before that, and thankfully didn’t have to do so too much after he came across it. His palms were sweating and shaking. He hadn’t traveled on foot for long before. Never more than a few miles. What if he couldn’t find any gas to siphon? What if there were no drivable cars? He couldn’t continue on foot. He was not a fit man. At 5’10 and 210 pounds, he may not have been what an American would call _fat_ per se, but he certainly wasn’t skinny. It was a miracle he’d made it this far. Being an attorney, you don’t really learn skills you’d need if the world ended. Not like a doctor or engineer, anyways. Anthony’s conversational skills had saved his life in the past though, and engineers weren’t often known for their charisma. He had that going for him. Still, having a silver tongue wasn’t as comforting as being able to patch up a wound or fix a damaged…anything. Or know how to _really_ use a gun.

The sun finally made its first appearance of the day. The first sliver arose over the horizon and seemed to melt away the remaining blue-purple tint of the night. Thank God. Traveling at night was unnerving. Well, so was traveling during the day. Traveling in general. The windows of the cars were covered in condensation from the chill of the night, but the sun was making quick work on it. After only about a mile of walking, Anthony’s dress shirt was beginning to grow damp with sweat and he could feel the rubbing on his dress shoes. There it was again, the old world coming to get him. Yeah, button downs and slacks and dress shoes really helped now, right Anthony. Idiot. Couldn’t think to pack some jeans and sneakers, could you? God.  Anthony’s mind went blank as he continued walking. It was humid. It was always humid. The air was so hot it felt more suffocating to breath than to not.

As Anthony made his way onto the exit ramp, he thought he heard something in a cluster of trees to his right. Voices. Shit. Anthony crouched and slowly made his way to the road’s guard railing. There were definitely people in those trees. They were talking. Muffled voices. Anthony couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t things just be _simple?_ He just wanted to find some fuel for his car. What if these people tried to kill him? Shit, shit shit. He continued to listen. It was a woman and…a child? It sounded like it. And by the sound of it, it was just the two of them.  Anthony remained cautious—believe none of what you hear and all that. Anthony stepped over the railing and towards the woods. His hands were drenched with sweat now. His arms were shaking. He didn’t want any trouble, but maybe these people could help. Maybe they knew the situation at the truck station.

Just then, Anthony stepped on a branch, causing a loud cracking noise.

Oh no.

The voices stopped. They must have heard him. You clumsy piece of shit, Anthony. He didn’t want them to think they were being stalked. Anthony swallowed. No saliva. He was nervous.

“Hello?” he shouted. “I mean you no harm! Please, I could…I could use some help!” Anthony was shaking. His mouth was totally dry. He didn’t know who was in those woods. A voice in his head was screaming. _Run, Anthony! Run!_ But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He just…froze.

Then it happened. A woman—a pregnant woman—emerged from the tree line. A little girl was behind her.  The pregnant woman raised her weapon—a handgun—at Anthony. “Who the hell are you? Answer me. Now! Stay behind me, Clementine.”

Anthony stammered. “I uh…I’m—”

“You have three seconds!” the woman hissed.

“Anthony Burns! I’m Anthony…Burns. I’m an attorney. Or, I was.” There you go again, Anthony. Living through your work. “I…I’m alone. My car ran out of gas. I’m just trying to get to the truck stop over there.” Anthony awkwardly gestured in the direction of Gil’s Pit Stop.

The pregnant woman’s expression suddenly changed to one of sadness. “There’s nothing good left there. Now get the hell out of here. I _will_ shoot you. Don’t you think for a goddamn second I wont!”

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Anthony sighed. But where would he go? _Why would he go?_ was a better question. “Thanks,” he added as he turned around. At least she didn’t shoot him. Would that have been so bad, though? Now wasn’t the time to get existential.

The little girl spoke up. “Christa, wait. His car…has no gas. He needs help. And so do we now that…Omid…” she trailed off. Anthony paused and turned around. There was safety in numbers. No one had really wanted Anthony around, though—before or after the apocalypse. This little girl had been the first one to vouch for Anthony in weeks, even if it was only a matter of utility.

The woman turned to the little girl and barked, “We don’t _know_ this man, Clementine! I have to look out for you, me, and the baby. Now that…” she sniffled. “Now that Omid is gone, we need to be _more_ careful with who we talk to, not _less.”_ Her voice cracked.

An awkward pause. The little girl looked at Anthony, her eyes seeming to say, “I’m sorry.” Anthony could tell both she and the pregnant woman were just as afraid as Anthony. Anthony spoke up. “Look, folks. If  you need help…I’d be happy to do what I can. I have a few bottles of water and some bagels. A gun and knife. I can look after myself. Or, you can take the weapons, if you want.  But, there is safety in numbers. I can help. I promise.”

The little girl smiled with her eyes at first, and then with her mouth. She looked at Anthony and said, “I’m Clementine.” She looked over to the pregnant woman, who was still staring at the ground. The confrontation with Anthony had obviously exhausted her. She was heavily pregnant. She couldn’t afford to be confronting strangers that way. “And that’s Christa,” Clementine added.

Anthony hadn’t noticed at first, but Christa was crying. Maybe it was the death of that guy they mentioned, Omid. Or nerves. Or…hell, _everything._ Clementine approached Christa and rubbed her back. Anthony watched with fascination as this pre-teen consoled a woman who was soon going to be a mother. This was not an ordinary girl. Anthony didn’t have much experience with kids, though. He was awkward enough with adults. He wasn’t too good at forcing anything, especially interactions with children. He approached Clementine and extended his hand. _Anthony you dork. Do you shake hands with kids?_ Anthony didn’t know. But Clementine took his hand and shook it. It was awkward, but neither of them said anything. Social customs probably weren’t on anyone’s mind.

Christa spoke up. “Well…screw it, then. Let’s go.”

Anthony watched as Clementine and Christa walked ahead of him back into the woods. Anthony turned back to look at the freeway. It went on and on. It seemed endless. It reminded him of a long, winding snake, constricting and choking the life out of anything that took for granted its patience. That wasn’t a fate Anthony wanted to meet: continuously searching and struggling alone on that long serpent.  He turned his head back to the tree line. Christa and Clementine weren’t waiting for him. He jogged behind them. There was no going back now.

 


	2. Chapter 1: Sleeping the Day Away

Anthony jogged for about seven seconds to catch up to Christa and Clementine, who were already making their way back to…wherever they came from. Christa hadn’t taken Anthony’s gun, which may mean she expected him to not take advantage of her trust. Or she just thought he was incompetent and wouldn’t be a problem anyways, which was probably true. Or she just didn’t care anymore. That was the vibe Anthony was getting the most. As an attorney, you become good at reading people. It’s part of your job. Then again, Anthony was in the woods in rural Georgia, not in his office back in Miami. He couldn’t rely on his “old world intuition” here. The game had changed, and the rules had changed with it.

Neither Christa nor Clementine spoke as they made their way back into the woods. It made Anthony feel uncomfortable. Didn’t they want to know about him? Why he was there? Where he was going? Nothing. As he began to consider it, he expected as much from Christa. Yeah, she really didn’t seem to care about _anything_ anymore. And she needed to. She was pregnant—very pregnant.  As for Clementine, Anthony assumed she was just mimicking Christa’s silence. She probably didn’t know any better.

“So, uh,” Anthony began, “what’s your guys’ story? Or…what have you been…doing?” Anthony had, evidently, not put much thought into the question before asking it. _What have you been doing? Really, Anthony? Nice._ “What I mean to say is…where are you staying? Do you have a camp? What’s the surrounding area like?” That was better. It was certainly much less awkward than the first question.

Clementine turned her head to her side, but stayed next to Christa, about five feet in front of Anthony. “It’s just us, now. We’ve got a tent and some supplies. No real _camp_ though…we’ve been on the move. We were thinking of heading to—”

“That’s enough!” Christa snapped. Clementine flinched a bit. “I—I’m sorry Clementine,” Christa exhaled.

Clementine regained composure. She didn’t seem to mind Christa’s snap too much. Clementine continued, “I met Christa and Om…” she trailed off. “I met Christa on the way to Savannah. We really just left Savannah and moved back into the countryside. Cities are dangerous. Too many people.” Clementine, too, suddenly had a change of demeanor at the mention of Savannah. Anthony noticed the subtleties. Her voice dropped. So did her shoulders. And she looked at the ground. Something about Savannah seemed to upset her. Anthony wasn’t a mind reader, though. He couldn’t be sure. Maybe he’d ask later. Clementine turned back to make eye contact with Anthony. She seemed to give a slight nod as if to say, ‘now you say something.’

“Well, I live—or, lived, I guess—in Miami, Florida. I was an attorney there.” Christa snorted at that. Anthony wasn’t sure why. “I was on the way back from a business trip in Charleston, South Carolina when all _this_ happened.” It always seemed dramatic to call it the “apocalypse” even though that’s exactly what it was. Anthony tended to refer to it as “this.” “I was with a few groups, here and there in Georgia. But I always had my car. I was able to siphon fuel, so I was able to stay alone. I didn’t need help, really.” _Bad call, Anthony_. “I mean, no one needed mine, either…” he said in an attempt to somehow redeem his previous blunder. _No, that wasn’t any better…_

“We’re here,” Christa said after taking a big breath. She dropped her gun and plopped herself down on a log. _Here?_ Anthony thought to himself. _What’s “here”?_ There wasn’t much of anything around. Two logs, presumably for sitting. An attempt at a fire pit. Oh, there was a tent. It was small, though. No way Anthony would fit inside with Christa and Clementine. They probably wouldn’t want him in there anyways.

Anthony surveyed the area. He was no survivalist, but there was one glaring problem he noticed. “Don’t you guys have to deal with the, uh…the…dead people? The ones that walk around, I mean?”

Christa looked up. “You mean walkers?”

“Walkers?”

“You really haven’t spoken to many people since this all happened, have you? Yeah. Walkers. Biters. The dead. Geeks. Not many people call ‘em zombies. Probably because it was so popular _before_ they actually existed.”

“Ah.”

“But yeah. The area isn’t too densely populated, so it’s not swarming with them. We may go a few days without seeing one, or only seeing some. It’s not a huge deal if you have your head on straight.” Anthony thought on what Christa said. It made sense that if the area wasn’t densely populated, there wouldn’t be many dead—walkers—around. Logic.

Anthony looked longingly at the tent. There were probably sheets in there. Sheets would the closest thing to a bed Anthony had slept on in months. The leather seats in his car hadn’t been bad, though.  The adrenaline that was coursing through his veins finally died down. It was then Anthony realized how _tired_ he was. He’d been driving all night.  He sat down on one of the logs opposite of Christa. Clementine sat next to Christa. “I don’t mean to walk in and start making demands or anything but—” Christa bolted her head upright and stared right back at Anthony, as if to intimidate him. “No, no, no! I don’t mean like _that._ I’m not here to take or steal anything. It’s just…I was driving all night. And I am quite tired. I could use…some rest. I’ll sleep out here.” Anthony nodded, as if affirming something.

Christa’s expression softened, but her voice did not. “Fine, then.” She gestured to the ground. “Make yourself comfortable. There’s some grass over—”

“We have some blankets,” Clementine offered, a half-smile appearing on her face. Anthony couldn’t tell whether the smile was genuine or an attempt to comfort him. Either way was out of character for a little girl after the world had ended. Christa sighed. She was not a fan of helping out Anthony, and he understood that. But at the same time he wasn’t about to turn away the offer of a blanket.

“I’d like a blanket. Thanks…Clementine.”

Christa darkly chuckled. “You know you’re agreeing to help a stranger, Clementine. A man you just met.” It was clear that Christa was more trying to teach Clementine a lesson for the future, rather than warn her of Anthony himself.

“I know,” Clementine said. “But I wouldn’t be alive if people who had just met me refused to help. Including you and Omid, when we were on the train to Savannah. Besides, I’ve met enough strangers to know which ones are good and which ones are bad.” Christa’s eyes widened. So did Anthony’s. _Damn was this girl smart._ Not only did she make a good point, but she _said it well. Cool little girl,_ Anthony thought _._ Unfortunately, that probably meant she had been through a lot. Maturity at that age was exceptional, and often brought about by tragedy. Clementine grabbed a blanket. It was torn, ratted, and had brown splotch of what was hopefully mud. The design was of footballs and football helmets, as well as flags. A child’s blanket. Clementine extended the blanket to Anthony.

“Thank you,” Anthony said. He walked over behind the log he was sitting on and found a patch of grass. He got down on the grass and wrapped his upper body with the blanket. It may have been worn and dirty, but it was still soft. _Just a nap. Just 20 minutes…just…rest my eyes…_ Within moments, Anthony was out like a brick.

 

…

 

Anthony awoke and immediately sat upright. _What the hell was going on? Where was his car—oh-oh. Right._ How long had he slept? It was practically dark outside! Oh god. Christa must have noticed his panic, she was sitting on the log she had been when Anthony passed out. “You alright? You must have needed the sleep.”

            “Yeah. I guess I really hadn’t slept much in the past few days…still, I must have been out for like, twelve hours.”

            “More. The sun’s nearly set. You were out for fourteen to fifteen. And like a log, too.” Christa chuckled. “Clementine is in the tent. I think she’s drawing…or sleeping. I don’t know.” Christa paused. She was staring at the ground. Anthony was, too. “Look. I’m sorry for pointing the gun at you, and I’m sorry for coming off as so cold. I just don’t know who to trust anymore…” She moved around the sticks that were sustaining the fire.

The fire pit had been small, but the fire itself was of respectable size, allowing for illumination of the immediate surroundings, but they were surrounded by a depressed blue: the color of impending night. Soon the blueness would be engulfed in black. Anthony kept his eyes at the ground and fire. He almost spoke when Christa cleared her throat. Anthony looked over to see her hand on her stomach, rubbing it. “The father was killed six days ago in the truck stop you were headed for. I killed the bitch who did it. She was trying to rob Clementine and...” her voice cracked. “And Omid tried to stop her but…” tears were streaming down Christa’s cheeks now.

Anthony didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t been genuinely consoling to anyone for decades. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” was all he could force out. He should put his hand on her shoulder. He _should. He should. Do something, Anthony! Say something at least!_ Nothing. He just stared at Christa, who was nearly sobbing at this point.  “I’m sorry,” he said again. And he was. He felt for this woman. He just didn’t know how to express it. The woman had just lost the man she loved, the father of her unborn child. And all Anthony could do was watch as she wept. It was almost perverse. He looked away.

Clementine emerged from the tent. “Christa…” she approached Christa. This had definitely happened before. Clementine sat on the other side of Christa and put her hand on her shoulder. _Jesus Christ, the kid knows how to do this better than you_ Anthony thought.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Christa got out between breaths. “I’m going to take a walk. Stay with Anthony, okay Clem?” Christa grabbed her gun and picked herself up from the log. “I won’t be too far, and I won’t be gone too long. I just need some space.”

There was now an awkward gap between Anthony and Clementine, and neither one of them moved to close it. Instead, Clementine grabbed a backpack she had brought outside from the tent and tossed it where Christa had been sitting. She used it as an armrest. “I…I ate one of your bagels,” she said as she averted her gaze from Anthony. “Well, I guess I ate half of one. I’m sorry.”

Anthony nodded and smiled. “Don’t be. They’re meant to be eaten. Sorry I didn’t have…peanut butter or anything,” Anthony joked.

“That’s okay.”

She didn’t detect Anthony’s attempt at humor, which was fine.  It wasn’t funny. “Christa told me what happened…and that the woman who did it tried to rob you, too.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. For both of you. If…” Anthony was struggling. _Come on, now_. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know, okay?” That was hard to get out. Anthony needed work on his people skills, big time. He decided he would stretch his legs. He hadn’t really done so since he had woken up from his obscenely long “nap.” He walked past the tent and looked into the darkness. Not much to be seen. What the hell was Christa doing? Why was she out there all alone? Anthony was surprised by her change of heart regarding her trust. This morning she was three seconds from shooting him, and now she was leaving him with Clementine. It was curious how emotional toll could affect a person’s decision-making skills.

The sun had completely set at this point, and the forest offered no comfort, only an omnipresent, immense silence and darkness. The silence was just as unnerving as the dark. He stepped back towards the fire and sat next to Clementine, still allowing for her backpack to be positioned between them. He was silent for a while until he looked over at Clementine to see what she was doing. She was holding two pieces of paper. One was a ripped photograph, and the other was a drawing on white paper. Anthony didn’t ask. It wasn’t his business. Probably mementos. People liked mementos. Anthony never understood it. Then again, he never really had anyone or anything to remember. He didn’t need a memento of his law firm—he was there all the damn time. His clients? Rich assholes. Nothing to miss. _And you sucked up to them, took them out to dinner and took them golfing. You kissed their asses._ Anthony shook his head. He couldn’t afford to think like that now. The past was just that.

He looked over to Clementine, who was still staring at the photo, as if in a trance. Anthony decided to initiate conversation. “So…what’s that a picture of?”

Clementine slowly looked up. Without much inflection whatsoever she made eye contact with Anthony. He could see the reflection of the fire dancing in her eyes. They were watery. “It’s a picture of a man.” She handed Anthony the piece of photograph. It was a man, all right. Maybe in his 30s or so? Black. Wearing a blue-purple shirt. “His name was Lee,” Clementine continued.

“Who was Lee?”

Clementine opened her mouth to speak, made a noise, but stopped. She was deep in thought. Anthony could tell that much. It seemed as if she could provide no explanation as to who this man was, as if she never had to explain it to someone in words. Finally she opened her mouth again and offered, “he was…my best friend. If not for him, I probably would be dead.”

Anthony struggled with how to respond.  What was there to say to this? Here was this preteen girl who seemed to have lost more than Anthony could possibly lose. It’s hard to lose what you never had. Thankfully he didn’t have to think of a response, as Clementine continued to speak. “He came to my house a few days after the walkers. He took care me, promised to take me to my parents. I actually thought there was a chance of them being alive. We met some people at a farm, and then we stayed at a motel for a while. Then took a train to Savannah. On the way to Savannah was where I met Christa and Omid. Then…in Savannah…” she trailed off.  “A lot of people died in Savannah. I ran off with some stranger who promised to take me to my parents— _stupid.”_ Clementine was glaring at the ground now, rubbing her foot angrily in the dirt. “A guy with us named Chuck died. Then my friends Ben and Kenny died trying to come save me…and so did Lee. Only Christa and Omid made it out of Savannah, and I found them.”

Anthony was listening carefully. It had been his job. He nodded at various points. He didn’t attempt to speak, though. He didn’t want to coax anything out of Clementine. He wanted her to share whatever she was comfortable with. “Lee…he did so much. I can’t even start to list it all.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she looked back at Anthony. If this were a movie or storybook, this is where Anthony would take her in his arms and promise everything would be all right. But he couldn’t promise that. And he didn’t know how to take her into his arms. The nausea of guilt overtook him. This fundamental human action of consolation…he just didn’t know how to do it. Not because he didn’t want to, not because he fancied himself any kind of “hard ass”—no, quite the oppose. He was just, in a word, confused. Confused and awkward. Dedicating your life to your job was no way to acquire real _human skills._

 _Those tax codes are really helping now, eh Anthony? How about the Florida Revised Code? Right_.

“What about you?” Clementine asked as she used her sleeve to rub away the tears. “Have you…lost anyone? I’m sorry. You…don’t have to answer.”

“It’s fine,” Anthony forced a smile and continued, “but no. I guess I never really had anyone to…lose, you know? I mean, I suppose the other partners at the firm—I’m a lawyer—are probably gone. The clients, too. My secretary, I guess.” Anthony thought of his parents and his younger brother. He hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. It wouldn’t be worth mentioning. “Nah. I haven’t lost anyone.” It sounded selfish. It sounded _wrong_ for Anthony, a man in his 40s, to tell a little girl that she had endured more pain than he. Her parents, this guy named Lee, her friends in Savannah. _Shit._ It just felt wrong. The nausea was growing. “Truth be told, you and Christa are the first people I’ve even really talked to about this. Y’know…life and the people in it. I just nev—”

 _Crack!_ A single gunshot. Clementine sat upright. So did Anthony. Then there were a series of voices—several men and one woman. It sounded like Christa. Anthony looked at Clementine as if to ask, “what do we do?” He was panicking. Should he run? He couldn’t just leave Clementine here, and what if Christa needed help? This is why he hated being in groups. More people to worry about. “Well come one!” Clementine hissed in a loud whisper. Anthony was astonished when he saw Clementine run into the tent and grab a gun.

“What are you _doing?”_ Anthony asked, his voice cracking.

“Seeing if Christa needs help!”

Well shit. If the little girl is going…god dammit. Clementine sped away and Anthony grabbed his back pack and, for some reason, Clementine’s too. He ran off behind her. The forest was dark. You couldn’t see more than seven or so feet in front of you. The voices were growing louder as they made their way towards them.

Christa’s voice. “I don’t…I’m _alone!”_

“We know that ain’t true, lady. Now tell us where the rest are!” a man yelled.

A second man. “This isn’t doing us any good. Let’s beat it out of her.”

The first man. “Man, she’s pregnant. We can’t do _that_.”

A third man. “Do I look like I care? You got ten seconds, honey.”

Christa again. “I am alone! I swear on my life! I swear!”

Oh, shit. Anthony grabbed Clementine by the shirt. “Clementine. There are bad guys up there. We need to turn back. Come _on!”_

Clementine broke free of Anthony’s grasp and glared at him. “Christa is my best friend, now. I’m going after her.” With that, she ran towards the voices. Was it brave? Or was it stupid? Whichever it was, Anthony ran after the girl. They didn’t keep running for more than 20 seconds or so when they finally saw it: four men surrounding Christa, one of whom was holding her arms behind her back. Oh god.

“Alright,” one of the men began. “Ten seconds to tell us, or you and your baby aren’t going to be feeling too good…10…9…8…7” Oh Jesus Christ. Anthony looked at Clementine, she was still gripping her gun, but she wasn’t aiming at the men. She better not shoot. Shooting one of them wouldn’t do any good. They’d just shoot Christa and then focus on Anthony and Clementine. “…6…5…4…”

Clementine opened her mouth to yell. “Christa!”

Christa looked over to Clementine and Anthony. “Clementine, run!” She made eye contact with Anthony for a moment, but it felt like an eternity. He saw death in Christa’s eyes—true hopelessness. An acceptance of the situation, complacency with death. “Anthony, _take her!”_

The men turned. “There!” one of them yelled. Anthony grabbed Clementine and thrust her over his shoulder and began running in the other direction. Running with a 10- or 11-year old over your shoulder was difficult. Anthony turned his head to get one last look at the situation. The last thing he saw was one of the men strike Christa across the face with the butt of his gun. Anthony heard the cracking noise as the metal struck bone. Christa’s body went limp and fell to the ground. Oh no. Oh god. Oh shit. Anthony ran as fast as he could, still holding Clementine. The men were gaining on them. Anthony wasn’t fit to begin with, but with a girl in his arms…forget about it. Just then, the loudest _crack_ Anthony had heard in his life—right next to his ear.

What on earth? Clementine was firing a gun over Anthony’s shoulder! He turned around to see one of the men writhing on the ground, shot in what looked like the shoulder. The two other men in pursuit halted and looked down at the man. Anthony wasn’t about to complain.

He was panting heavily. Where the hell was the fire? It didn’t matter. They couldn’t go back anyways. Between struggling breaths, Anthony asked, “where…did you learn…to shoot like that!?”

“Lee!” Clementine yelled back. _Well, good one, Lee, whoever you were,_ Anthony thought to himself.

            That gunshot was surely bound to attract walkers. The entire area wasn’t safe. Anthony need a plan, and fast. _My car!_ Anthony ran for the tree line. The men’s voices could still be heard, but they were nowhere in sight. That was good.

            They made it to the tree line. Anthony finally put Clementine down. “Go jump that rail, get on the road!” he yelled to Clementine.

            “No! Christa! We need to go—”

            “Clementine, go to the road _now!_ I’ll be right behind you. Go!” With that Clementine ran to the rail and made her way over it. Anthony followed. Where was his car? Anthony quickly scanned the dark highway. It really was amazing how taken for granted electricity had been. Christ. “Come on,” he said as he pushed Clementine ahead of him. They ran off the exit ramp and back onto the main highway. Aha! Anthony’s Mercedes was still there.

            Clementine was out of breath, too. “I thought it was…out of gas,” she managed to get out.

            “It is, but we can stay for the night.” Anthony made it to the car. His blisters were awful, he was drenched in sweat. “Get in, get in!” He ushered Clementine inside the back door and slammed it shut. He got in the front and laid the seat all the way back so he was in a horizontal position. Neither of them could be seen from the windows once Clementine had lain down. Anthony’s heart was racing. That was more exercise than he’d gotten in years. Damn, he was out of shape. His mind was racing. Who were those men? What did they want? God damn. Silence.

            After about five minutes of heavy panting for both Anthony and Clementine, Clementine spoke up. “What do we do? We have to…do something. Christa’s back there.” Anthony recalled what the men had done to Christa. It looked bad. It was possible she was dead. No way to tell, though. He didn’t know how to say that to Clementine.

“I think…I think we need to stay here. At least for a while…”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, okay.”

The two sat in silence. Yeah, there it was again. That silence, louder than anything Anthony had ever heard. It was truly maddening. You wanted an answer. You wanted to yell at and abuse the world and all it would do in response was—nothing. It would remain silent. Damn that silence.


	3. Chapter 2: Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star

Despite his hatred for the limitless silence, Anthony was relieved that he couldn’t hear the men chasing them. They must have given up, or were still searching the woods. That made sense. They probably weren’t expecting Anthony and Clementine to run to the highway, which offered significantly less cover than a dense cluster of trees—especially at night. They also probably didn’t think Anthony’s car was here and readily accessible. They really had lucked out.

Anthony was lying back in his reclined seat. His head was close to Clementine’s, as she was lying down across the backseat. Their heads were almost meeting at the intersection of an “L.” Anthony could hear her breath—light, shallow. She was still tired, probably scared. No shit. Anthony was, too. He decided to break the silence. In a hushed tone, so as to not potentially attract nearby walkers, he asked, “any idea who those guys were?”

Clementine was silent for a few seconds. Maybe she was thinking. Or maybe she wasn’t in the mood to talk. “No,” she finally responded, “I have no idea who they were.” Anthony nodded. He was about to leave it at that and sit in silence until Clementine added, “they were probably bandits or something but…Christa and I didn’t have much. Nothing they’d really want.”

The guys certainly had been well fed. They were energetic, fast, and seemed strong. There wasn’t anything for them to have gained from what Clementine and Christa had. Hell, they took Anthony in because he had a few bagels. “Yeah,” Anthony started. “I’m not sure what they wanted…maybe they were looking for…someone? A person.” Clementine didn’t respond. There wasn’t much to say. Anthony was staring upwards at the ceiling of his car. Blackness. Really wasn’t much to see. Too bad he had slept for _fourteen goddamn hours_ today, or else maybe he could drift off to sleep. Then again, knowing there were violent men a few hundred yards away looking for them, sleeping probably wouldn’t have been on the table anyways. He tried to think about something other than recent events, but nothing came to mind. He didn’t want to engage Clementine; she probably wasn’t in a talking mood.

Anthony closed his eyes, not in attempt to sleep but because it was easier. He just wanted to keep his eyes closed and not have to deal with all… _this._ It was no different anyways, considering it was dark outside. May as well eva—Anthony’s escapism was cut short by Clementine clearing her throat and asking, “can you open the thing?”

“The ‘thing’?”

“The sunroof.”

The sunroof. Anthony never drove with the sunroof open.  It always made things too bright, and he felt exposed and unsafe—not legitimately in danger. Exposed was a sufficient description. He didn’t care much now, though. “Sure,” he said as he reached up to pull back the cover. The starts provided a bit of illumination. It wasn’t quite as dark inside the car anymore. Anthony didn’t mind. He tried to close his eyes again, but it was different now. It didn’t feel right anymore. The stars were more interesting than the ceiling of a car. Anthony opened his eyes and looked above. They must have really been in the countryside—there were many stars, at least 50. Then again, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were in the city…the world was without electricity. No electricity means no light pollution.  He couldn’t make out any constellations in the plethora of stars. Then again, he only knew of the Big and Little Dipper. They were nowhere to be found.

Clementine started humming…what was that? It sounded like the ABCs. “Why are you humming the ABCs?” Anthony asked Clementine.

“I’m not…” Clementine seemed confused. “It’s _Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star…”_

Anthony laughed. The two songs had the same rhythm. “Oh, my mistake. Both songs are actually the same, you know.”

Clementine was silent. Maybe she was thinking about it. Finally she began singing, “Twinkle twinkle, little star…”

Anthony followed behind her. “A B C D E F G…”

She continued, “How I wonder what you are…”

“H I J K L M N O P…”

“Up above the world so high…”

“Q R S T U V…”

“Like a diamond in the sky…”

“W X Y Z.”

“Twinkle, twinkle little star,” she added. Anthony joined her in a speaking tone. “How I wonder what you are,” they finished in unison. Anthony smiled, but felt a bit silly.

Clementine turned her head away from the sunroof and looked at Anthony. “I never knew they were the same thing. That’s sorta funny.”

“Yeah,” Anthony nodded. “I remember when I was little…my mind was blown when I figured it out.”

“You said you didn’t have people to lose,” Clementine began. “You didn’t have any kids?”

“Nah,” Anthony felt uncomfortable. “It just wasn’t…in the plan for me, you know? I never really wanted any is all.”

“You weren’t married?”

“No. Same story there, I guess. I don’t know. I just had other stuff going on?”

“What stuff?”

“Work.”

“How’s that?”

Anthony considered the question. “Well, it’s not much of anything anymore. Before the walkers came about it was…fine,  I guess.”

“That’s good,” Clementine sounded like she didn’t really know what to say. Truth be told, Anthony didn’t either.

“It’s…something, I guess,” he offered.

Clementine looked back up out the sunroof. “Look!” she pointed up. “The Big Dipper!” Anthony scanned the night sky. He didn’t see it a few minutes ago. Where was it?

“Where?” he asked. “Where is it? I can’t see…”

Clementine traced the outline she saw with her finger. Anthony finally made out the constellation. She was right. There it was. The two sat in silence for the night. The silence still bothered Anthony, but it was slightly more bearable. He looked over at Clementine. She was awake, but she was staring at the stars. The silence was something they were sharing, rather than something Anthony was dreading. Funny how it can change like that.

 

…

 

 

            The morning light startled Anthony as he came to his senses. He must have dozed off toward the end of the night. Clementine had too, but that made sense. She didn’t sleep the day away yesterday. Anthony felt guilty. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that. Something could have happened. They were lucky nothing did.

            “Hey, Clementine. Wake up.”

            Clementine groaned as her eyes opened. “It’s morning?”

            “Yeah”

            “Oh”

            “Yeah,” Anthony repeated.

            Clementine rubbed her eyes. “Where are we going? Do we have a place to go? We need to look for Christa!” Clementine seemed to have just remembered the events of last night. “What are we going to do?” she was panicking, a bit. Anthony’s mind was racing. What _were_ they going to do? They had no plan. Nowhere to go. Anthony tried to calm himself down. He never had a place to go before yesterday. He wasn’t concerned then—why be worried now? “Well,” he started, “didn’t Christa say you two were thinking of heading somewhere?”

            Clementine was silent, and then she twitched in excitement. “Yes! Wellington!”

            Anthony was glad that the nervousness had turned into excitement. It made him feel good to help Clementine forget the nerves and stress, even if for only a moment. “Okay. Great. What’s that?”

            Clementine stared intently into space, clearly deep in thought. “It’s a place up north. Christa said it’s in northern Ohio. She said it’s safer there because it’s cold and the walkers can’t get through snow as easily.”

            Anthony’s heart sank a bit. They were in _Georgia._ And Christa wanted them to try and get to _Ohio?_ With a newborn baby? It seemed like an ill-fated plan. But it was a plan. Anthony doubted they’d actually end up with Wellington as their destination, but he said, “The American Midwest! I went to college in northern Indiana. Place called Notre Dame. Heard of it?”

            Clementine nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! They’re a football team. My dad would watch them on TV sometimes.”

            Anthony chuckled. “Yeah. It’s a school, too. Regardless, that’s the area of the country we’re headed to.” Anthony really didn’t expect them to even leave Georgia, but he felt compelled to give Clementine some sort of hope. “Maybe those guys from last night know the north is safer, too. Maybe we can…find them or something.”

            “I hope so…but last time I wanted to find someone…I got my hopes up.” Clementine looked away. She was likely referring to her parents. “And it got Ben, Kenny, and Lee killed, too.”

            _Say something, Anthony. Damn you, say something._ In one of the bravest and most awkward things Anthony had ever done, he put his hand on Clementine’s shoulder. She was still lying away from him, facing the other way. “Clementine…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “I promise you, I will do everything in my power to help you find what happened to Christa. And I will not leave you alone. I swear it.” Clementine turned around to look at Anthony. Anthony didn’t know what more to say, so he began discussing the plan. “Well, this highway is headed north as it is, and that’s the way we need to go. We’re not too far out from the South Carolina border, so I guess we’ll head that way.” He wanted Clementine to feel involved. “What do you think?”

            “I think that sounds good.” She smiled.

            Anthony smiled too. “Good.” He turned his seat up and got out of the car. Jesus, it was hot. He grabbed both his and Clementine’s backpacks. “Now, I think yours is the pink one, here,” he joked as he handed Clementine the backpack as she came to his side of the car.

            Clementine grew ecstatic. “I thought I left this at the camp! My pictures are inside! Thank you so much!” she rushed forward and hugged Anthony. _Uh…uh…hm._ Anthony put one arm around Clementine. He didn’t really know what to do. After a moment of fear and awkwardness, though, Anthony felt the warmth of her. It was comforting. He tightened his one arm around her to make it an actual hug—or, half hug considering it was only one arm.

            Still, he wasn’t quite sure how to handle a “thank you.” So, instead, he stammered, “well, I thought you may need it…”

            Clementine released her grip of Anthony. “I do. Thank you.”

            “Well,” Anthony began as he surveyed the highway in front of them, “we’re burning daylight. Let’s head out. Let’s try and cover as much ground as possible during the day. Traveling at night…I don’t like it.” The highway wasn’t empty, but it was certainly travelable on foot. Anthony’s car probably wouldn’t have made it much further even with gas, though. The cluster of cars grew denser down the road.  

 

…

 

            About four hours had passed without incident. No walkers, no people. It was hot as hell, though. They were both quite sweaty. “Another thing about heading up north,” Anthony began, “you won’t have to deal with this oppressive heat.” Clementine nodded, but said nothing. Then they both heard it: shuffling feet. It was coming from behind a blue-green station wagon to their left. Anthony looked through the car’s windows and saw a man’s body limping out from behind the car. The man was moving like a walker, but Anthony wanted to get a good look to be sure. He drew his pistol.

            It wasn’t a walker. Anthony lowered his pistol as he saw the emaciated man emerge from behind the station wagon. He was wearing loose, tan cargo pants and an army green jacket, along with white sneakers. He must have been burning up in the heat. The man seemed on the verge of death based on his limp and posture, as well as his sickly thin body. There were bits of dirt in his long, graying beard that hung down from his sagging face. He looked to be late 50s or so. He stopped and stared first at Anthony, but his gaze fell on Clementine. Silence.

            Anthony swallowed. “Sir? You look…well, I guess I’ll be honest. You don’t look very good.  We have a little bit of water, and some bagels. Would you like some?” No response. “Here, Clem, reach in my bag and get a bagel, would you?”

            Clementine began rooting through Anthony’s backpack as Anthony kept his eyes on the man.  Clementine found a bagel and looked at the man. “Aren’t you hungry? Thirsty?” she asked.

            The man chuckled a bit, which unsettled Anthony. More silence. After about ten seconds, he finally spoke. “Oh, yes…I hunger…I _thirst._ But not for food and drink…”

            The tone of the man was distressing Anthony. “Alright…well, what is it you hunger for?”

            The man wheezed. “You know what I hunger for. What a man hungers for…” Even though he was answering Anthony’s question, his eyes stayed fixated on Clementine.

            “What are you tal—” Anthony began, but was cut off by the man as he continued to speak.

            “It’s a pretty little thing you got there with you,” he grunted as he pointed at Clementine. “Haven’t seem a woman in months…but...she’s a fine lookin’ lady, huh?”

            Anthony’s body went cold. This was exactly what he feared. No. No. “You sick piece of shit.” Anthony raised the gun to aim it at the man.

            Clementine gasped. “Anthony! What’s going on?”

            “Get behind me, Clementine.” She did. Anthony could feel her get behind him and grip his shirt.

            The man chuckled again. “Oh come on man…don’t act like you haven’t had a go,” he drew a knife. “When’s the last time _you_ saw a woman, huh?” He took a step towards Anthony and Clementine.

            “You’re totally sick…” Anthony said as if it were more of a discovery rather than an accusation. “Walk away…or I will kill you.” Anthony cocked the gun.

            “I know your type, man” the man said as he began to limp towards Anthony and Clementine. “You’re nervous. You won’t do it…”

            He was getting closer. Only about ten feet away. He seemed weak, but that knife could still do damage.  “This is your last chance…you don’t know me. I will do it.” The man was right. Anthony had managed to get this far without killing a person. This was going to be hard. He could feel Clementine’s grip on his shirt grow tighter as the man approached. _That was it!_ This man wasn’t a _person._ He was a monster—just as much as the walkers.  The man was only about five feet away, soon to be within arm’s reach.

            “Anthony!” Clementine screamed.

            The man smiled, “Come here, girly. I’ll make ya—” _Crack!_ The man collapsed to the ground, shot in the chest. He was dead. Anthony’s trembling hands still clutched the gun. Anthony stood, motionless. Frozen. He was stunned. Even if that man had lost his humanity, Anthony just took a _real life._ Finally, he lowered the gun.  A big inhale. Anthony didn’t realize it, but he hadn’t been breathing. He turned his head. Clementine was staring at the man’s body. She was gripping Anthony’s shirt so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

            “Hey,” Anthony began. _No excuses this time, Anthony. Be a human being, for God’s sake._ “Hey, Clementine. It’s…it’s okay. He’s not gonna hurt you now.”

            Clementine released her grip of Anthony’s shirt. “Wha—what was he going to do? What did he mean? He was…saying those things about me and I…I don’t understand.”

            Oh, Christ. How the hell was he going to explain this? He was silent for a moment. “Well, Clementine…he…he was just a very bad guy. He wanted to hurt you, okay? But he didn’t. I didn’t let him. And I won’t let anyone else, either. Okay?”

            “Okay…” she said, passively. She was staring at the ground. She hugged Anthony again. It was a different hug than the one they shared this morning. It was sadder, less energetic. Made sense. Anthony fully hugged back this time. Clementine was crying. He could feel her shaking and could feel the tears soaking through his shirt.

            “It’s okay, Clementine. It’s…it’s all right. I’m here.” He rubbed her back. “We got him.”

            Just then Anthony heard a groaning sound. As he turned around something got ahold of his leg—oh Christ! The man had turned quickly. _Shoulda shot him in the head! Shit!_ The walker tugged at Anthony’s leg, tripping him. Clementine fell backwards as well. “Anthony!” she screamed. Thankfully the man was weak before death, so a kick to the face knocked it back and away from Anthony. But it quickly rebounded and began crawling towards Anthony again. Anthony backed up, still in a sitting position. He abruptly ran into the guard railing on the other side of the highway. _Shit shit shit! No!_ The walker had been crawling right behind him the whole way. There was nowhere to go. No! The walker grabbed Anthony’s leg. Anthony tried to kick it away, but the walker was only staggered. It went back for the leg, ready to bite.

            Just then, a yell. It was Clementine. She had grabbed her gun and, with something resembling a battle cry, she slammed the walker across the face with it. The walker let go of Anthony and groaned at Clementine, only to be smacked again, along with another cry from Clementine. Again. Again. She was really beating the shit out of that thing.  Again. Again. She yelled one last time and slammed the gun into the walker’s skull, the butt of the gun puncturing the skull. The walker went limp. Anthony and Clementine were both panting. They looked at each other. Clementine was in tears. Anthony stood. This time, he initiated the hug.

            “Thank you, Clementine. You saved my life. That makes us even, yeah?”

            She forced a laugh. “No. I’ve saved you twice. You still owe me one.”

            Anthony laughed too. He was surprised by her ability to joke after all that just happened. “Yeah, I guess that’s right. Fine, fair. I still owe you one.” The two stayed still, arms locked around one another, neither of them saying a word. And it was okay. Sometimes, the silence was okay. Funny how that worked.

            A few minutes had passed. “That shot I fired definitely attracted more walkers. We need to get out of here.” Anthony looked forward on the highway. It seemed clear of walkers. Most were probably in the woods on either side of the road and were coming to their current location.

            “Okay,” Clementine said, mid-exhale. “Let’s go, then.”

Anthony started off. It was unsettling, a bit, to know that his actions were based solely on the idea of “heading north.” There was no way they make it all the way to Ohio—not with just Clementine. And their experiences with other human beings—those guys in the woods, that man on the highway—were far from helpful. No, Anthony thought, they probably weren’t going to make it to Ohio, to Wellington. Maybe they’d find something along the way, though. Some settlement in North Carolina or Virginia or something…if they even made it that far. Anthony still had doubts on whether they’d even leave Georgia. Seeing Clementine handle that walker, though…she was tough.  They may not make it to Wellington, but they had a fighting chance.

He looked over at Clementine, who was keeping pace with him pretty well.  If they were going to be traveling together, he should probably try and find out more about her. “So,” he began. He hadn’t tried small talk in years, unless he was entertaining clients. “Where are you from?”

Clementine kept looking out ahead of them, surveying the highway. It was still bare besides the abandoned cars. “I lived outside of Atlanta…what about you?”

“Miami, Florida”

“Kenny was from Florida…so was Duck. His son. And his wife, Katjaa.”

“Oh yeah? Where…where were they from?”

“Fort something…I don’t remember.”

“Fort Lauderdale?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“That’s actually very close to Miami. Not too long of a drive at all. Less than an hour.”

“That’s cool,” Clementine said. The mention of Kenny and his family seemed to have upset her. “They’re the ones I drew. Look,” she reached into her backpack and pulled out the drawing Anthony had caught a glimpse of the night before. She handed the drawing to Anthony.

“Now _that’s_ a mustache,” Anthony smiled. “That drawn to scale?”

“He had a big mustache,” Clementine smiled a bit, too. “And he really liked boats. He was a fisherman, I think.”

“Oh, I see. Very nice. That’s cool.” He didn’t really know what to say. Maybe she just wanted someone to listen, which he could do.  He didn’t want to ask too many questions, like what happened to Kenny’s family. He didn’t want to pry.

“He always fought with this woman…Lilly,” Clementine went on.  “And then Lilly killed someone and…I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to talk about it anymore.”

“That’s okay.”

“Thanks”

 

…

Hours later...

The sun was going down. It was time to find a place to rest for the night. Unfortunately, there wasn’t as good of an option as the night before. There were two abandoned cars to their left, forming a V-shape. Anthony looked around. Going back in the forest made him nervous. You couldn’t see people or walkers until they were up on you. The cars were probably the best choice.  “Come on,” he said to Clementine. “Let’s lay low for the night.” He ushered Clementine towards the two cars and into the open space between them. He put Clementine on the inside of the V, leaving Anthony to keep watch for as long as he could. Clementine sat cross-legged for a few minutes, just staring. Anthony was facing outward, observing the highway. After about five minutes, he turned around to see Clementine on her back, out cold. It had been a long day. Lots of walking, and that guy on the road. Anthony was tired too. He grabbed the backpack, planning to use it as a pillow, and laid down.

The sky was filled with stars again. Anthony was amazed by it. It was a sight. It was amazing what it took to realize something so amazing. It took the end of the world. Anthony retraced Clementine’s finger-path from the night before. He was determined to find the Big Dipper on his own this time.

Ah, there it was.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 3: The Palmetto State

            Sleep didn’t come easily. Anthony kept rolling from side to side, as if his position on asphalt would make a difference one way or another. The backpack wasn’t as comfortable as he had hoped it would be. He removed it from beneath his head and placed it to his right. It was then he remembered the contents of the backpack. _The books!_ Anthony grew excited for a moment as he reach into the backpack, grabbing Camus’ _The Myth of Sisyphus_ —wait. It’s nighttime, you idiot. _Dammit._ Bright as the stars may be, they weren’t enough to make the text visible. Anthony sighed and placed the book back into the bag. Camus’ ideas were interesting…but his writing, not so much. Sleep would have probably come easily if he had been able to read.

            It was then Anthony sat up and looked at Clementine, deep in sleep. Motionless. _Peaceful._ Before the outbreak, Anthony hated sleep. He hated fatigue. It was a hindrance on his productivity. Coffee could only do so much. When you got too tired, you had to leave the office. How frustrating it was, to leave work at your desk simply because you needed to lie in a bed to maintain your health—physical and mental. What a burden it had been! Yet, now, in this new world with its new rules, sleep suddenly grew significantly more attractive.  _Peaceful,_ Anthony thought once again. It was a temporary escape, avoidance, of this cruel reality, this struggle for survival—this absurd silence. Ah, there was Camus once again! _So clever, Albert,_ Anthony thought to himself. If there ever was a time to have an existential crisis, it was certainly now. Even if the darkness prevented him from reading Camus, Anthony could think about his ideas. Anthony recalled the opening lines of Camus’ _The Myth of Sisyphus…_ _There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living…_ something, something, something.  Anthony couldn’t remember specifics after that. It didn’t matter. Anthony contemplated Camus’ philosophical problem. Was death a superior option? Was life worth living? Was this even _life?_ Maybe that was why sleep was so attractive now. It was an escape, but it didn’t require the courage or the commitment of suicide. That’s probably what it was. Anthony wasn’t in the mood to think on it for too long—the sleep was pulling him in. It truly was enticing, it was inviting. He embraced it.

 

…

 

            Anthony woke up to Clementine poking his shoulder—it was a bit awkward, truth be told. She wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t shoving. Just poking, with a single finger. Anthony grunted and opened his eyes.

            Clementine stopped poking. “Hi,”

            “Hi”

            “It’s morning”

            “Yeah”

            “I let you sleep, I’ve been up for a while”

            “Oh?”

            “About an hour. Maybe. I don’t know.”

            Anthony looked to the sky. The sun was certainly not on the horizon anymore. It was somewhere between 8:00 and 9:00 am. _Dammit._ He could feel the heat too. Yeah, it wasn’t sunrise anymore. “You should have gotten me up when you woke up”

            “Sorry…” she said, she seemed genuinely apologetic.

            “Don’t be,” Anthony smiled. It wasn’t a huge deal. Not really. He reached for his backpack and took a bite of bagel. Even after this long without any kind of hygiene, you never really got over that morning taste in your mouth. “How’d you sleep,” he asked with a mouthful of bagel.

            “I slept fine”

            “Want any bagel?”

            “I’m okay. Thanks.”

            “Well, alright”

            “Should we get going?”

            “Yeah”

            “Okay”

            They were off. The highway stretched out before them, filled with cars, but nothing else. At least, not to be seen from this distance. Time would tell. Clementine was quieter this morning. She wasn’t saying a word. She was probably just tired. Then again, there wasn’t much to say, was there? After about twenty minutes of walking, Clementine spoke. “I…I had a bad dream.”

            _Oh God. How am I supposed to respond to this?_  “Uh, what happened? In your dream, I mean.”

            “It was about Lee…” Clementine crossed her arms. “It was more like a…memory, I think. I had to…in Savannah…”

            Anthony remembered that Clementine mentioned Lee had died in Savannah. “Well, erm. What happened in Savannah?” Anthony was no counselor; he was worried for her response. He couldn’t really handle any emotional breakdowns—not well, anyways.  

            “Lee got bit,” Clementine started. She was looking straight ahead. Her neck was stiff. She was making a concerted effort to not look at Anthony. “He was bit when I ran off with the man who said he knew my parents. Lee found me, and killed the man, who was really trying to kidnap me. We found my parents…they were walkers and—Lee fell. He passed out. It was hard, but I pulled him into this store. I found out he was bitten…and…” she trailed off.

            “Did he—did he turn?” Anthony kept looking straight as well, not wanting to make Clementine feel uncomfortable with him looking at her.

            “No. He didn’t. I…didn’t let him.”

            Anthony knew what that meant well enough. _Wow._ And that was a while back, too. Clementine was younger than was now, and she had to do that— _duh she was younger, Anthony. It was in the past. God, you can be stupid._ “I’m…that’s awful. I’m sorry you had to do that, Clementine.”

            “It was bad. I almost couldn’t do it. But when I look back, I couldn’t have let him turn, you know? I know _I_ wouldn’t want to. It sounds weird, but I’m glad I did it.” She was retaining her composure. She wasn’t even crying—it didn’t look like it, anyways. That told Anthony she had given this a lot of thought. This was certainly not the first time she told this story, or at least, she’d thought about it to herself before.

            “It doesn’t sound weird, Clementine. I get it. You made…well, _I think,_ you made the right decision. I wouldn’t want to come back, either.” What was that even like? Did you have any memory? You probably weren’t even alive. You were probably dead, right? Just…your body was moving…right? That’s what zombies were…so strange to consider: your body up and moving, but your mind be…gone. Anthony’s mind immediately began to consider the Mind-Body Problem…were we body _and_ mind…or soul? Or were we just a body, with the mind being a tool of the brain? Anthony knew where he stood. He was a materialist, through and through. There was no way there’s a separate mind— _soul. It would just be too convenient._

            Then, as if Clementine had read Anthony’s mind, she looked at him for the first time since they began walking and asked, “Do you think Lee’s in a better place? I mean, heaven?”

            _God dammit. She was a little girl, Anthony. Be gentle, but be honest._ No words came out, just a string of awkward sounding noises. Finally, he formed words. “Well, uh—I—well, I mean. I don’t…I don’t know, Clementine. That’s my best, honest answer.” He wished he could have been encouraging. He wanted to tell her, ‘yeah, Clementine. Lee’s in heaven smiling at you, he’s safe and he’s in no pain.’ Well, Anthony wanted a lot of things. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to the girl—to tell her something she wanted to hear.

            “Oh…don’t you believe in God” Clementine seemed perplexed by Anthony’s response.

            _Oh come on. Really? Really?_ “Well, Clementine, I don’t really think about this stuff much. But, no. I don’t _believe_ in him…but I don’t necessarily think he’s not real, either. I just…don’t have enough evidence, you know?” Anthony wanted to say more. He wanted to say, ‘look around you! You believe in God? Really? After all _this?_ ’ But he didn’t. He didn’t have the heart. That was funny, Anthony thought. The Christian morality was keeping him from telling Clementine that God wasn’t real…it was doing its job, then, at least. Friedrich wouldn’t be happy with Anthony right now.

            “Oh…” was all Clementine got out. She probably wasn’t looking for a theological debate—she probably wasn’t expecting one, either.

            “But,” Anthony began, “if there _is_ a heaven…then I’m sure Lee’s up there, right now.” He smiled. It was the best he could do, and he wasn’t lying. If heaven as he understood it was real, he’d wager that guy, Lee, was up there, based on what Clementine had told him.

            Clementine smiled a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was there. “Yeah. Me too.”

            It was funny. Anthony looked up to the sky at this point, as if channeling “heaven.” _Yeah, if you’re up there, Lee…watch out for us or…something._ It was more of an internalized joke, but, hell, Anthony would take any help he could get. It was then Anthony grew a bit disheartened. Here he was, asking a guy he had never met—nor would he ever meet—for help. He never asked his mother, father, brother. No friends to ask. Yeah, here he was, asking the ghost of a man who took care of a girl Anthony had known for all of two days.  Anthony felt lonely.

…

 

 

_South Carolina: Smiling Faces. Beautiful Places_

            Anthony read the sign and gave a dark chuckle. Smiling faces and beautiful places. Sure. Well, at least they made it out of Georgia. Anthony was surprised. The highway had been much less treacherous than anticipated—no complaints there. The sun was setting. They still had a good hour or so left to walk if they so desired but—Clementine began clapping as they passed the sign. “Uh,” Anthony began, “what are you doing? Why are you clapping?”

            Clementine stopped clapping, smiled, and looked up at Anthony. “Whenever my family would go on road trips and we’d get to a new state, like, when we passed the sign, we’d clap. It was always exciting. It meant we were closer to where we were going.”

            “Oh,” Anthony said passively. “Well, alright. Yeah, I guess that still holds. We’re one step closer, indeed.” Anthony gave a few claps himself and a half smile to Clementine. It was definitely helping her, he thought, to do this. It was probably helping her think of her family, reminding her of better times. That’s what was worth going on for. _Take that, Camus._

            “Well, we could keep going for a while, but there are some gas stations a quarter of a mile away. I say we try our luck with those. It would be better to see if we can get inside one of those…y’know, instead of sleeping outside.” He recalled Clementine’s last experience in a gas station. Before she could respond, he added, “I’ll keep you safe, alright? Nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?”

            She sighed. Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was nerves. “Okay…” she managed.

            As they entered onto the exit ramp, Anthony looked back from the highway. Apart from his short time with Christa and Clementine in the woods, this would be his first departure from the highway in quite some time. _Wait a minute,_ Anthony thought to himself, _you’re going to be back on this road tomorrow, you sentimental fool._ Right. Duh.

            The glass of the doors and windows had been shattered and the shelves were all empty. Anthony wasn’t surprised. Non-perishables were worth more than gold, now. Well, now, everything was worth more than gold. What was gold? What a luxury it was to value _gold—_ a shiny metal. Gold was what people valued wen they didn’t have anything important to value. It almost disgusted Anthony. It almost made him resent the world before all this…the _old world._ People valued things because they were _bored,_ for God’s sake. At least, people in the first world. People had nothing _important_ to value, so they valued rare rocks and metals and the shit of oysters… _decadent._ It didn’t matter now.

            “Well, Clementine,” Anthony started, “have a look around. Let’s see if we can find something in here. Some food, drink. I don’t know. The sun’s about to go down, so we won’t have light for much longer.” Clementine nodded and started rooting around the store. The shelves were nearly empty. Some car fresheners, magazines—ah! Anthony bend down and grabbed a bag of potato chips that had been under the shelf. Lucky find. Chips weren’t that filling, but they were down to one and a half bagels. Anything would help.

            They both heard it: an engine. A vehicle was approaching, and fast. _Oh no._ “Clementine, get down!” Anthony loudly whispered. He grabbed her shirt and they both got down behind one of the shelves parallel to the store’s entrance. Anthony crawled forward a bit to peer through a small gap between the two shelves.  Two jeep-like vehicles pulled onto the road outside the gas station, maybe a hundred yards away from where Anthony and Clementine were laying. One vehicle had two men inside, the other had three. They were armed. Two of them had some sort of rifle, the other three had handguns. The men got out and began surveying the area. Anthony turned back to Clementine, putting a finger to his lips to say “quiet.” She nodded, her eyes wide, a look of terror on her face. The men began to speak.

            “All right, that’s it! He said go to the border. We made it. Now let’s go!” one of them complained

            “Not yet. We need to look around,” a second man responded.

            “I’m with Troy,” a third man shrugged, “there’s no way they made it down here…not with that girl and her babying dad. No way.”

            “Yeah well Troy just wants to get back so he can roll around in walker guts with his girlfriend Jane,” a fourth man teased.

            The first man, apparently named Troy, started toward the man. “What the fuck you say to me? It’s _not_ like that! _Fuck_ you!” he shoved the man back.

            “Oh, yeah? What’s all this ‘we’ll run away together’ crap I’ve been overhearing, huh?” the man retorted.

            “Man, it’s—it’s nothing, okay? God.” Troy sighed. “Fine,” he continued, “let’s look around. Let’s check the woods, I guess. Then we’ll come back and check the stations.”

            “We need to be quick, we don’t have too long until we need to be back. Thank God the road was clear—made for easy travel. Heard they’re worse in Georgia.” One of the other men said. “I wanna get back on time…I’m not too excited about the prospect of having to sleep outside with Reggie and Troy’s psycho girlfriend.” Troy didn’t respond this time. The five men made their way into the woods.

            After a few moments, Clementine grabbed Anthony’s foot. “What do we do?” she worriedly whispered.

            Anthony’s mind was blank. Those men would be coming back. Who were they looking for? Where were they staying? They seemed to have some semblance of government, considering they were answering to someone. It didn’t matter. The last group of strangers with guns Anthony had encountered wasn’t too kind. He didn’t want to take any chances. “I say we run for it…we could maybe just sneak out back and…wait.” Anthony paused. The rumbling of the cars’ engines hadn’t stopped. Had they _really_ kept them running? Anthony recalled one of the men say that the road north of here was empty. An insane plan began to unfold in his head. They wouldn’t be staying the night here, but they’d be getting something a lot better.

            “Clementine,” Anthony whispered, “on the count of three, we’re going to run to the cars, okay?”

            “ _What!?”_ Clementine gasped.

            “Got it? Okay. One…two…”

            “Wait!”

            “What?”

            “Which car?”

            “Oh…the one on the right.”

            “Okay.”

            “Three!”

            The two sprinted from behind cover. Anthony was holding his backpack strap in one hand and the potato chips in the other. He made it to the jeep first and threw what he was carrying into the backseat—there was something already there. _Fuel cans!_ What luck! Made sense, the men needed enough gas to get back to…wherever they were coming from. Clementine threw her backpack in the backseat too and quickly made her way into the passenger seat. Anthony got in the driver’s seat. It was an automatic—thank God. He put the car in drive, but didn’t press on the gas. He wanted to get away a bit before he accelerated and made noise for the men to hear.

            “What are you doing!? Go!” Clementine yelled. She sounded more angry than anything.

            “Shh! Not yet…”

            “They’re going to come back!”

            She was right. If they came back, it wouldn’t matter anyways. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. He pressed his foot to the gas. The tires squealed for a moment, and then the car took off. Anthony hoped the men were deep in the woods. There was no way they didn’t hear the engine roar or the tires squeal, but if they were far away enough, they wouldn’t be able to tell in which direction Anthony and Clementine had gone.

            Anthony switched off the headlights as they got back onto the actual highway. He checked the rearview mirror. No sign of the men. Was this really going to work?

            The car pulled onto the main highway once more. There was nothing in front of them but open road.  Anthony turned on the headlights again, just in case. The engine was loud. They were traveling at a solid 75 miles per hour. Clementine looked nervous. Anthony hadn’t thought about it, but she probably hadn’t been in a car for quite a while. “Woo!” Anthony yelled over the sound of the engine. This was exhilarating! They may make it north after all!

            Clementine looked to Anthony and responded by yelling, “I’ve never been in the front seat before!”

            Anthony paused for a moment, then chuckled. “Well, what do you think?”

            “It’s…it’s kind of fun! We’re going fast!”

            “Yeah!” Anthony nodded. They probably shouldn’t be going this fast on a highway that didn’t have lights, but Anthony was too excited to care. He did, however, slow down when he heard voices coming from the floorboard on Clementine’s side. Clementine reached down. It was a radio of some sort—looked like a walkie-talkie. There were two voices. Anthony slowed down to 40 miles per hour so the sound of the engine didn’t drown out the chatter.

            “What do you mean you lost the car!” a man’s voice. It was deep, husky. Raspy.

            “I don’t know!” It sounded like the first man—Troy. “We left the cars to search the woods and we…we heard the car start! Fuck! I don’t know. Someone must’ve taken it! Fuck!”

            “Someone stole _my_ jeep?” the voice hissed. Anthony looked at Clementine. He gave her a devious smile. She smiled back. “You’ll certainly be paying the price for this when you come back—all of you. So I take it you didn’t find any signs of Rebecca?”

            “Uh, yeah”

            “You did?”

            “No I mean, ‘yeah’ as in…’yeah’ you’re right. As in…we didn’t”

            “You’re a fucking imbecile, Troy”

            Anthony turned down the volume on the radio. “Sounds like Troy’s got some problems, huh?” he grinned again.

            Clementine chuckled. “Yeah.”

            Anthony was excited—he was _happy._ They had a real chance now. If these roads were as clear as the men had said, and with all the gas they had in the back, they could make it all the way trough South Carolina. They’d already made it farther than Anthony thought they would, and now they had a car! This was amazing.  This was lucky as hell is what it was.

            He looked over to Clementine again. She was staring out at the open road with a big smile on her face. It was the biggest smile he’d seen on her since they’d met. She was holding her hat in her hands. It would have blown away otherwise. Anthony didn’t say anything, but Clementine’s smile made him smile. This girl was happy. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment, she seemed happy. That was enough for Anthony. They would probably take I-95 all the way to North Carolina. It was about 200 miles. Going at 70 miles per hour, accounting for some times they’d have to slow down to maneuver, it would probably take them between three and four hours. _Wow, this is great._ Anthony couldn’t stop grinning. He probably looked like a dork. He didn’t care.

 

…

 

            Three hours and 48 minutes later, they’d done it. Clementine fell asleep about two hours into the drive. Anthony envied her. He could never sleep in cars. The bumps, the noise. It just wouldn’t happen for him.  On the right side of the road he saw the North Carolina welcome sign. He slowed down to about 20 miles per hour. He tapped Clementine on the shoulder. “Hey, hey Clementine! We made it!” He pointed to the sign.

            Clementine groggily came to. She looked around for a moment, and then in the direction Anthony was pointing. She smiled. _Welcome to North Carolina._

            They both clapped.


	5. Chapter 4: Hell on Earth

Anthony accelerated again after he and Clementine were done clapping. They had only refueled one time in South Carolina so the jeep was low on gas again—less than an eighth of a tank. “Alright,” Anthony started. He was cut off by a yawn. “Yeah…I’m tired.” It had been around what Anthony assumed was 9:00 when they stole the jeep from those men back in South Carolina. Along with the drive…yeah, it was probably around 1:00 am now.  Anthony needed some sleep. Always an early morning—never an opportunity to sleep in. “I’m gonna take the first exit we see and maybe we can find another gas station or something. Sound okay?”

            Clementine yawned too, despite having slept for a portion of the drive. “Yeah. I’m tired too. Maybe we can find more than just some potato chips?”

            Anthony nodded. “That’d certainly be nice. We’ve got a little less than a bagel and a half…one bag of chips and a bit of bottled water. But I’m gonna need some of that bagel and I suggest you take some too. Hell, you haven’t eaten all day.”

            “I haven’t really been hungry.”

            “Well you should eat anyways.”

            “Okay”

            As Anthony took the first exit, he was disheartened to discover there were no gas stations. _Curious. You’d think there’d be some gas stations near a state border. Oh well._ There was a rest stop, which was better than nothing. With any luck, they’d be able to get inside. And with _more_ luck, the building would be empty. Anthony rolled up to the rest stop, scanning the parking lot. There was one older sedan off to their right. Looked like it was from the 90s—it actually resembled a car Anthony had owned before his Mercedes. “Hey, Clementine,” he started, “I’m going to go check out that other car…can’t take the risk, you know?” Clementine nodded. “Stay here, okay?” She nodded again.

            Anthony grabbed his gun from his backpack and slowly made his way out of the vehicle and across the parking lot. He was half-crouching, which, when Anthony thought about it, didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but oh well. With the exception of the road on one side of the parking lot, the rest stop was completely surrounded by a dense forest.  It was somewhat unsettling, being surrounded by a black opaqueness on all sides. It almost felt as if you were locked inside a dark room with walls on all sides—no exit, no escape. The moon and the stars provided sufficient lighting to see the immediate surroundings, and as Anthony approached the old sedan he could make out a silhouette. Unmoving. Dead. Either that or sleeping, but one tended to not sleep in such a position. The figure was doubled over the steering wheel. As Anthony took a few more steps, he was reminded of the one way that a person _could_ escape the proverbial room. The hole in the guy’s head…the pistol still clutched in his hands. This guy tried to escape the all-consuming opaqueness. Had he traded it for something worse? Anthony didn’t know. He didn’t bother searching the car. It didn’t seem right. He turned around to— _oh shit!_

            “What the _hell_ are you doing?!” Anthony hissed. Clementine was no more than three feet behind him, gun in her hand.

            Clementine looked puzzled. “Uh…seeing if you needed help?”

            “That’s dangerous! I thought for a second you were…you could have gotten hurt!” Anthony scolded.

            Clementine shrugged and looked at the ground. She paused for a moment, and then she regained eye contact. “I mean…it seems like I know how to use one of these things better than you…” she smirked.

            Anthony stammered. “Ah—I…well. Maybe.” He let out a small chuckle. The girl was certainly frank. Anthony admired that. You couldn’t afford anything _but_ that anymore. “Well…thanks. Y’know…for seeing if I needed help.”

            She smiled. “Yeah. So, the car’s empty?”

            Anthony turned his head back to the lifeless sedan. “Basically,” he shrugged.

            “Basically?”

            “There was one guy in there who…well…he…” Anthony trailed off. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain this. Being direct may be the best way to put it. “He killed himself, Clementine.”

            Clementine’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. She looked at the ground as she spoke. “Kenny’s wife…she did that too…” she seemed to be avoiding the word “suicide” at all costs, as if it were some swear word. “When she knew her son was going to die, she shot herself.”

            “Oh,” Anthony’s eyes fell upon the ground, too. This certainly wasn’t the ideal place for this conversation, but the area seemed safe enough. “I’m…sorry. That’s very sad…”

            “Kenny and Lee were…they were really upset. Especially Kenny—obviously, I guess.”

            “Yeah. I imagine.”

            “Kenny shut down after that. I remember Lee worrying about him. He said Kenny just didn’t care about things anymore. At least for a while.”

            “That can happen to people when they lose something important to them. Y’know, something that’s their reason to live. You said your friend Kenny lost his wife and his son at the same time…what did he have to go on for after that?”

            “Yeah, I know”

            Anthony looked back up at Clementine. She was still looking at the ground, but Anthony kept his eyes trained on her. “But you know something? He _did_ keep on going. For you. For your friend Lee. Didn’t he?”

            Clementine kept her focus on the ground, but a smile appeared on her face. “Yeah…he did. He died for me—to help Lee save me.” A single tear escaped from her eye. It fell almost in slow motion as it made its way to the ground, illuminated only by the moonlight.  Anthony remembered Clementine had told him this.  He didn’t say anything for a moment, allowing Clementine to collect her thoughts. Finally, when Clementine looked up, she offered a smile. “Lee…Kenny…they were great guys,” her smile was genuine.

            “They sound like it, Clementine. Wish I could have met them.” Anthony stood upright. Standing at half-crouch had been killing his knees. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can get inside the rest stop, yeah?” Clementine nodded and followed Anthony back to the car. Anthony grabbed the potato chips and the two backpacks. “Here,” he handed Clementine the chips and her backpack.

            She grimaced. “Ew,” she chuckled.

            “What is it?”

            “Sour cream and onion. I like barbecue flavor…”

            Anthony nodded and let out a slight chuckle. “Well, more for me.”

            Clementine laughed, too. “You wish”

            “You said you didn’t like this flavor!”

            “It’s the only flavor we have!”

            “I’m just giving you a hard time”

            She smiled. “I know”

            They reached the front door of the rest stop, which was already cracked open. That was convenient. It also meant walkers could easily get inside. The windows allowed for _some_ illumination inside the building, but significantly less than outside. “Stay close to me,” Anthony began, “keep your gun ready, too.”  From what Anthony could tell, the floors were clear. Splotches of what was hopefully dirt were scattered about, but not much more. Some papers, empty water bottles. There didn’t seem to be anyone staying here. Then again, they could be hiding. Still, Anthony could see across the room—barely. There were no signs of life, and no noises to signify the presence of any walkers. “This place…it seems overrun, but no one’s here. It’s s good of a place as any,” Anthony lowered his gun. “Linoleum’s more comfortable than asphalt, no?” He joked.

            Clementine sat down, Anthony did the same. They were positioned in the back of the large room, away from the front door. There was a door off to their right that Anthony hadn’t noticed. Two doors, actually. They were boarded and chained shut—no way was anything getting in or out. Anthony squinted, trying to read the large letters across the two doors. “Don’t…dead…open inside? Don’t dead open inside? _What?”_ He leaned forward and squinted even harder. “Don’t dead open inside!? Is that what it says, Clementine?”

            Clementine hadn’t been paying attention. At Anthony’s mention of her name she snapped back into reality. “What? What? Oh, let me see.” She squinted as well. “Don’t dead open inside. Yeah, that’s what—no! Don’t open, dead inside. That’s what it means.”

            Anthony nodded, feeling a bit silly for not initially understanding. “Don’t they know you’re supposed to write left to right, not…up to…down?” Clementine laughed, but the severity of the message struck them both at the same time. Anthony shot up. “Stay here,” he slowly approached the doors, pistol in his hand. _What are you going to do, Anthony? Shoot the door?_  He put his ear to the door. Silence. This message may be quite old. Maybe the walkers inside are _dead—really dead—_ by now? Anthony tugged at the chains on the door. It was more than secure. The doors didn’t so much as budge. He turned back to Clementine. “We’re good. I don’t even think there’s anything on the other side. And if there was, they wouldn’t get through that.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah, I’m sure.” Truth be told, Anthony wasn’t sure. He was _pretty_ sure, but there was no way to be positive. Still, being pretty sure was enough. They didn’t have the luxury of being positive about anything.

            Anthony stared out the window. Blackness. It had to have been the forest. The sky was brighter than that. The thought of the forest, combined with the sight of the man who had committed suicide outside, made Anthony think of a scene from Dante’s _Inferno,_ which he had a copy of in his backpack. Anthony probably subconsciously remembered this, and that was why he began thinking about the poem. He reached into his backpack, grabbing the book  and began to flip through it, searching for the right section.  “You’re _reading?”_ Clementine yawned. “ _Now?”_

            “No,” Anthony started, still flipping through the pages. The font was larger than _The Myth of Sisyphus._ It was somewhat legible in the night.  “I’m looking for a part of the book that I was just reminded of.”

            “What part?”

            “Here it is!” Anthony placed his finger at the beginning of Canto XIII— _The Violent Against Themselves._ He turned to Clementine. “Well, this whole book, it’s a poem written about 700 years ago. It’s very old. And it’s about this guy, Dante, who goes on a journey through Hell with this other guy who’s guiding him, named Virgil.” Anthony had been staring straight ahead, deep in thought. He had surprised himself that he remembered the guide’s name. It had been years since he’d read this. He looked over to Clementine, expecting her to show little interest, but she proved him wrong.

            “Really? Why did you open it just now, then?”

            “Well,” Anthony inhaled a bit, “the poem—it’s a long poem—is separated into little chapters. And in one of the chapters, Virgil leads Dante through a dark, scary forest. Turns out, the trees were actually the people in Hell who had killed themselves.”

            Clementine’s face contorted. Maybe Anthony had been too blunt? Maybe she was imagining Kenny’s wife in hell. “They became trees?”

            Anthony nodded. “Yep, but not pretty, green trees. They were…sort of…sickly. Gray. And these bird-like creatures called harpies tear the trees’ limbs forever. It hurts the tree-people to have their branches torn. It’s…according to the author, their punishment for killing themselves.”

            “Do you think that’s what happens when someone kills themself?”

            Anthony snorted. “What? That they turn into a tree and are picked apart by bird-ladies forever? Nah…not really.”

            Clementine didn’t see the humor. “Well…do you think they—I don’t know—go to Hell?”

            Anthony’s smile faded. Clementine was serious. She deserved a serious response, though Anthony wished she could have inferred what he’d say from their previous conversation about God and Heaven. “I don’t know, Clementine. I really don’t. But if someone had nothing to live for anymore in _this world_ …could you blame them?” Clementine was silent. That was probably too big of a question for a little girl.

            “If someone kills themself…” she began, “then they obviously don’t like it here. I mean, they don’t like it _here—_ on Earth I guess. Why would they be punished and sent somewhere even worse, like Hell? I think they should be sent somewhere better, somewhere nicer.”

            Clementine’s analysis brought back Anthony’s smile. “That makes enough sense to me,” he nodded. “It seems bad enough up here already.”

            “Like Hell?” Clementine’s eyes were fixed on Anthony at this point.

            “As I understand Hell…yeah, it seems like Hell. Hell on Earth.”

            “Yeah. Okay. Goodnight.” And with that, Clementine laid down and rolled over. She didn’t have any bagel! She wasn’t going to make it if she didn’t eat, but she needed sleep too.  Anthony would make her eat in the morning.

            _Wow, what a nice bedtime story you just told, Anthony. If you kill yourself, you go to a place even worse than this and everything is just always horrible._ Anthony shrugged. What could he have said to make it better? Well, he could have remained silent and not scraped through his book to find a certain scene. That’s what he _should_ have done, for Clementine’s sake. Now she’s probably going to have nightmares of Hell and harpies and being turned into a tree. _Shit._

            Anthony looked back down to the book, rereading the scene, periodically glancing out the window to his right. There it was. The forest. Maybe that guy who shot himself outside was now in that forest—part of that forest. The fatigue from before struck Anthony like a brick wall. He was at the very bottom of the page. Once he finished it, he’d sleep.

 

_As out of a green brand, that is on fire_

_At one of the ends, and from the other drips_

_And hisses with the wind that is escaping_

_So from that splinters issued forth together_

_Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip_

_Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid._

_…_

            “Are you sure this is one of theirs? I mean— _shit!”_

“I’m nearly positive, son.”

            “We need to get back to the house and warn the others. We gotta go. We don’t have time to sit here and chat about it! Come _on!”_

            “Now, just hold on. Maybe we should check inside.”

            “The hell for, Pete? C’mon!”

            “No, I’m going to go have a look. Stay here if you’d like. If they were in there and heard us, they’d be out already.”

            _Oh shit, oh shit._ Anthony had been awoken by two men in a heated discussion outside of the rest stop. What could he do? One of them was coming inside. There was no other exit. Were these the guys from South Carolina? _No!_

            “This jeep is _new._ We pass this rest stop every _damn_ day, Pete! This jeep is _brand fucking new!”_ The younger of the two voices was clearly distressed.

            The older voice, apparently belonging to a man named Pete, was quickly approaching the front door. “Son, stay there if you’d like. But I’m lookin’.”

            Anthony rubbed Clementine’s arm violently. “Clementine!” he loudly whispered, “stay with me, right here. You’ll be okay.”

            She rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on—”

            The door swung open, about fifteen feet in front of Anthony and Clementine stood an older man. He had short, gray hair and was wearing a brown-green jacket. He was holding a rifle.  He quickly spotted Anthony and Clementine—the room was empty, after all. A puzzled look immediately grew on his face as he raised his rifle, but only halfway. He wasn’t aiming at Anthony or Clementine. “That your jeep out there?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing.  “You got one chance to be straight with me.”

            Anthony raised his hands above his head. Clementine did the same. “Uhm. Yeah. That’s…that’s mine.”

            The man took a few steps inside, scanning the room. “Anyone else here?” he questioned.

            “No. No. It’s just us,” Anthony continued, his voice shaky.

            “How’d you get that jeep out there?”

            _Oh shit. It was them! They’d found them. Christ._ “I’m terribly sorry—truly, I am! We needed the car. I have a little kid with me. Please, please…”

            “The _hell_ you talkin’ about? You saying you _stole_ that car?” The man, for some reason, lowered his rifle. “Those assholes could use their jeeps bein’ stolen.” He chuckled.

            Anthony was beyond confused. He shot a confused look to Clementine. She just looked afraid. “I’m sorry,” Anthony began, “what on earth are you talking about? So, the jeeps not yours?”

            “Hell no that jeep ain’t mine! It belongs—it _belonged—_ to a bunch of assholes workin’ for an even _bigger_ asshole.”

            The younger man appeared at the older man’s side. He had somewhat long, brown hair and was wearing a light red shirt. He had some sort of accent—Anthony couldn’t place it. In a casual setting, he would have described it as _redneck._ “Pete! Who the hell—oh.”  The man stopped speaking when he saw Anthony and Clementine. “I don’t remember them from the hardware store. They’re not with Carver.”

            “Nope,” the older man cheerfully responded. “In fact, they _stole_ from Carver! They stole that jeep.” He turned and looked back at Anthony and Clementine. “Name’s Pete, and this guy here’s Luke. Say hi, Luke!”

            Luke scowled. “Nice, just go and tell the strangers our names. That’s real smart.”

            “They’re our friends, Luke!” He turned back to Anthony. “You have any idea who you stole that from? I mean, specifically? Whoever it was, they’ll be sleeping outside for quite a while!”

            “Uh…” Anthony’s mind was racing. He definitely remembered the guy’s name. What was it? Come on! “Uh…T-Trav. No. Tré? No. Troy? Yeah, Troy was one of the guys. Why…?

            Pete smiled. So did Luke.  “Troy’s one of the biggest assholes at the hardware store,” Pete said to no one in particular. “Glad it’s his ass out there.”

            “They had another jeep, though. Enough room to carry everyone back. There were five men total. We actually have one of their radios, too. Maybe when or if they’re close, you could listen in on them?”

            Luke stepped forward, looking anxious. “You listened to ‘em? What they say?”

            Anthony looked at Luke. “It was Troy and some other guy. Some guy in charge, I assumed. He asked about some woman….Rebecca, I think.”

            Pete and Luke looked at each other, an expression of panic appearing on both of their faces. “So they _are_ lookin’ for us!” Luke yelled in Pete’s face, as if something were Pete’s fault.

            “Now calm down, son! Hey, what’s your name?” Pete asked Anthony

            “I’m Anthony, and this is Clementine. We’re coming from Georgia, trying to make our way up to Wellington—some apparent survivor camp in Ohio. Apparently it’s…safer up north in the winters.”

            “And that’s all you got? Just those bags?” Pete looked concerned.

            Anthony nodded. “That’s it. Guns, not much ammo. Barely any water or food.”

            Pete smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Luke. “I know what you’re about to say, Pete.  We _can’t._ I don’t mind, but how do you think everyone else will handle it? Rebecca will throw a fit! Carlos will give us a lecture. And Nick will get pissy.”

            “I’ll deal with all of them,” Pete assured Luke, “but we can’t leave this man and this little girl out here with no food or water, can we?”

            Luke looked down. “I…I guess not.”

            Pete turned to Anthony once again. “Get your things, let’s move that jeep into the woods a bit…get it away from the road. We’ll wait. Then you and your little girl are welcome to come with us. We have a house deeper in the woods. We go huntin’, have food and water for ya, too.”

            Anthony was somewhat suspicious at first, but he didn’t have the luxury of being picky with whose help he accepted. “Sure, we’ll just pull it into the woods.”

            “That’d be appreciated. Thanks,” Pete nodded. Anthony and Clementine got to their feet and followed Luke and Pete outside.

            “What time is it?” Anthony squinted in the sunlight.

            Luke turned his head back. “I’d say…between 7:00 and 8:00.” It was a clear day, not too hot—at least not yet. A light breeze greeted Anthony as he entered the open area of the parking lot. It felt nice. He relished the moment. It’d probably be burning hot in a few short hours.  He climbed into the driver’s seat, grabbed the keys from the pocket in his slacks. Clementine hopped back into the passenger seat. She probably could have stayed with Luke and Pete, but they were new faces. Anthony didn’t blame her.

            Anthony drove right off the edge of the asphalt and into the grass at first. He turned his head to Luke and Pete, who were watching. Their silence implied Anthony was doing what they had in mind.  The jeep had excellent traction in the grass—duh. Anthony wasn’t sure what he was expecting. All cars can drive in grass, especially jeeps. With his foot barely on the gas, Anthony maneuvered the jeep through the trees as they began to enter the forest. The canopy almost immediately blocked out a good portion of the sunlight, casting Anthony and Clementine in a gray, dull shadow. Again Anthony’s thoughts were on _Inferno,_ and he entertained the idea that all these trees were the souls of those who’d opted out. It was a chilling thought. Of course, Anthony didn’t believe it, but—

            Just then, the jeep passed over what must have been an uneven surface and it slid to the left—it almost, for a moment, seemed to be rolling on its side. Thank god that wasn’t the case. Still, Anthony couldn’t control the jeep as made its way right for a tree. “Hey, Clementine,” Anthony said, struggling with the steering wheel, “hang on to something, okay?”

            “Uh, okay!” Clementine grasped the side of the door.

            “This shouldn’t be too bad, we’re not going too fast.” Anthony’s body tensed up as the jeep clumsily ran straight into the large tree. A loud _crunch!_ The jeep came to an immediate halt. There didn’t appear to be any real damage to the jeep. The crunch noise made the collision sound worse than it had been. “You okay?” he looked over at Clementine.

            “Yeah, I’m okay. Let’s…are we going back to those guys, now?”

            “Yeah…it’s our best bet.”

            “Okay.”

            They made their way out of the jeep and back to the rest stop. It was only about a 45 second walk. They had never been fully out of sight from the rest stop anyways. “Everything alright?” Pete asked. “Heard a sound, a thud or something.”

            “Eh, yeah,” Anthony admitted, awkwardly smiling. “Ran into a tree. Traction slipped or something—not sure.”

            “Well, okay,” Pete smiled. “Long as you’re alright, I guess. C’mon, the house is this way. You’ve got quite a few people to meet.”

            “I bet,” Anthony nodded, following Luke and Pete as they began to walk.

            “Are there any other kids there?” Clementine asked, her eyes hopeful.

            “Actually, yeah there’s one. She’s a bit older than you, it looks like, but yeah.” Pete smiled sincerely at Clementine. Luke seemed more serious—worried, perhaps. Something was definitely up. Luke and Pete were afraid of whoever owned this jeep before Anthony. This…Troy guy and whoever he was working for. Anthony would wait until they got to the house, then he’d demand some answers.

            He turned back to look at the forest where the jeep was. He couldn’t get the _crunch_ out of his head. It was a loud, heavy sound. A painful sound.   _I’m sorry,_ Anthony thought to himself—just in case the crunch was actually a scream of a tortured soul who’d taken another way out, and was now condemned to eternity in that forest—in those trees.

 

           

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 5: No Safe Place

The walk to the house that was allegedly filled with survivors went by without event—and no conversation whatsoever. Whenever Pete’s eyes met Anthony’s, he’d offer a smile and a nod. Luke, on the other hand, seemed much more nervous…brooding.  The two new faces walked five feet, more or less, in front of Anthony and Clementine as they made their way through the woods.

            It was still morning. That was nice. The humidity and full heat of the day were still a few hours off, making the walk through the still-damp foliage significantly easier than it otherwise would have been. The two men, Pete and Luke, seemed to be following a precise path. Anthony recalled how Luke said he and Pete passed the rest stop every day. They must be following a prescribed route back to the house. That was comforting to Anthony—a sense of order, a routine.

            Finally, they came upon it. The house was situated in a clearing, and it was no small shack, either. Two floors and plenty wide.  As they approached the front porch, Anthony noticed another man, possibly around Luke’s age, on the front porch armed with a rifle. He was presumably keeping watch. When he saw the group approaching, he began to shout. “H-hey! Pete? Luke! Who’re _they?”_ He was obviously referring to Anthony and Clementine.

            The man stepped down from the porch and began to approach them. His weapon was lowered, but Anthony was still nervous. Clementine apparently was as well, as she latched onto Anthony’s shirt again. Anthony’s mind immediately went to the incident with that man on the highway who tried to…he couldn’t think about that—it made him sick. He took a step to his right, getting in front of Clementine. As the new man approached, Anthony could tell he was, indeed, about Luke’s age. He had piercing blue eyes, dark hair underneath a red hat, and was wearing a black t-shirt and camouflage pants. Not much of a fashion sense, it seemed. Not that _that_ mattered.

            Pete took a step forward. “Son! Son! They’re with us. We found them. No water, no food. Okay? They need help. They’re our friends, okay?”

            Before the man in the red hat could respond, Luke spoke up. “Calm down, Nick. It’s okay. Your uncle’s right.”

            The other man—Nick—lowered his weapon further, but didn’t soften his gaze. If anything, his eyes narrowed as he again spoke. “And how do you _know_ they’re our friends? What if they’ve been following us, huh? What if they’re with Car—”

            “For the love of God, son,” Pete started, “Do you recognize them? Do you remember them from the hardware store? Plus, they _stole_ from Carver. A jeep and a radio. They told us that…well, they’re definitely looking for us.”

            Nick’s expression turned to one of panic. He seemed to have completely forgotten about Anthony and Clementine. “ _Fuck. No, no!_ We need to go, Pete! C’mon. We pack up and leave! What if they followed them or something?”

            This time, it was Luke who spoke. “Nick, Nick! Look at me, Nick. How would they have followed them? No way, Nick. Now, c’mon. Okay? Just calm down. We’ll talk to Carlos. He’ll know what to do, okay?”

            Pete and Luke walked past Nick without giving any instruction to Anthony. Anthony stood still for a moment before following, lost in confusion. Finally, he walked forward after the other two, Clementine still gripping his shirt. As he passed Nick, who hadn’t moved back to the porch—he seemed distressed—he turned and said, “Uh. Hey, Nick, right? I’m Anthony, and this is Clementine.”

            Nick snapped his head in Anthony’s direction, grimacing. “Yeah, okay.” An awkward pause. “Follow them I guess,” Nick shrugged. He was trying to act…tough, distant. Cool and uncaring. But years as an attorney helped Anthony learn how to read people. This kid, Nick, was terrified—and unconfident. Still, Anthony didn’t know him well enough to say anything. He’d probably react badly to it anyways.

            “Okay, yeah,” Anthony attempted a half smile and followed Pete and Luke up the porch stairs, Clementine right behind him. Apparently some other people inside the house had already been informed of their presence—there seemed to be an argument going on.  A woman was screaming.

            “The _hell_ were you thinkin’, Pete!?” the woman’s shrill voice echoed through the halls. Anthony followed the sound of the voice, glancing down at Clementine.

            “Hey, hey, Clementine. It’s okay. Okay?” he nodded at her. She tried to smile, but ended up looking more nervous. _Real hospitality these people offered._

Anthony rounded the corner of the hallway, entering into what looked like a kitchen—well stocked, too. Luke and Pete were there along with three new faces. A black woman, heavily pregnant. Anthony’s mind immediately flashed to Christa. But he couldn’t dwell on that right now. The other two were men: a husky, tall black man with glasses and goatee and a Hispanic guy with a mustache. They were both silent as the woman continued to berate Pete—Luke seemed to be largely exempt, maybe because of his age.

            The woman’s gaze harshened even more—which seemed impossible—as Anthony and Clementine entered the room. “These are your friends, right Pete?” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes fixated on Anthony.

            “Told ya this’d happen,” Luke said under his breath.

            “What’s your name, huh?”  The woman pointed an accusatory finger at Anthony. He could almost feel the pressure against his chest.

            “I’m Anthony, and this is Clementine. Pete and Lu—”

            “Oh I _know_ what happened,” the woman hissed. “And I also know that you’re with him! Well, you fuckin’ found us, right? Ready to take us back? Is Troy hiding in the—”

            The taller, black man spoke up. He seemed gentler, more soft-spoken than the woman. “Rebecca, c’mon. Pete said they’re good people.”

            “How do _you—_ how does Pete know anything about this guy, or this little girl? Bill wouldn’t be opposed to using children. You know that.”

            “Still on a first name basis with him, huh?” Luke muttered, his head buried in his hand.

            The woman, Rebecca, shot an ominous look at Luke, but said nothing—at least not for a few seconds. She exhaled and turned towards the others—Pete, Luke, and the two unidentified men. Anthony wanted to set things straight. He wanted to let Rebecca know he had nothing to do with Troy or Bill or Carver or anyone else.  But before he opened his mouth to speak, she addressed the four other men. “Fine. Right. I’m the _crazy, paranoid_ one, right? I’m so _out of my fucking mind, right!? Fine! Fine!_ I don’t care! Let him come and take us back!” She turned back to Anthony, opened her mouth, but said nothing. She just glared and stormed out of the room.

            “ _Whew,”_ Pete shook his head. “Sorry about that, Anthony.” He turned his attention to Clementine. “She didn’t mean that, darlin’.” He smiled. Clementine didn’t. “Well, this here’s Alvin,” he pointed to the tall, black guy. “And that there’s Carlos,” he nodded towards the other man, who’d remained silent throughout the entire spat with Rebecca. Alvin waved and smiled. Carlos approached Anthony and shook his hand.

            “Anthony, right?” he began. Anthony returned the handshake. “I’m Carlos. I’m a doctor for these people...Pete tells me you stole one of Carver’s jeeps? And from Troy,” he smiled. Everyone really seemed to dislike this Troy guy. Well, from what Anthony saw, he didn’t seem like the friendliest of types.

            “Uh, yeah,” Anthony scratched the back of his head rather awkwardly. _What do I do with my hands?_ He put his hands in his pockets, which may have made him look uncomfortable or immature, but he didn’t pay much mind to that. “That guy, uh, Troy, stopped his jeep. Clementine and I saw it. They left keys in the ignition.”

            Carlos nodded as if considering all of Anthony’s words carefully. “And where were you when this happened?”

            Of course Anthony remembered. The location had been a topic of Troy’s conversation with the other men. “Just a bit into South Carolina. Whoever is in charge of those men told them to go all the way down to the border,” Anthony said plainly, doing his best to report as much as he could. “The guy on the radio—we stole one of their radios, too—said they were looking for Rebecca…is that… _your_ Rebecca?”

            Carlos’ eyes widened when Anthony mentioned South Carolina. “All the way down in _South Carolina?_ That…that is insane.”

            “Yeah,” Anthony nodded, “Troy seemed to think the same.

            Before Carlos could say anything more, Alvin, who’d been standing back with Pete and Luke, approached Anthony and Carlos. “So he’s after her? He’s definitely after Rebecca? Our child? No, no. This is…no.”

            Ah, so Alvin and Rebecca were…together. Made a bit of sense. Okay. “So I heard on the radio…guy seemed like he was in charge, he asked Troy if he found Rebecca. Is that guy, is he this _Carver_? Or Bill?”

            Luke’s face was still buried in his hand. Pete, Alvin, and Carlos all exchanged glances.  Finally, Pete spoke up. “Yeah. It’s the same guy—Bill or William. Last name Carver. He’s in charge of some… _camp._ But the man’s…he’s a sick son of a bitch, I’ll tell ya. He—” Pete stopped mid-sentence, glancing nervously at Alvin. Alvin didn’t seem to react, but Pete didn’t continue.

            Carlos chimed in. “We escaped not too long ago. A guy on the inside helped us. He got bit. I don’t think he made it…anyways, we had expectations that Carver would come looking. Now we know, I suppose…” he, too, trailed off.

            Anthony’s brow furrowed. “Well, okay. Why’s he so bad? I mean, what’d he do? And why is he so intent on finding you—and Rebecca?”

            Both Pete and Carlos behaved like children being accused of stealing a cookie. They stared at their feet for a few moments, and then simultaneously brought their gaze to Alvin. Alvin said nothing, but cleared his throat and looked out the window. Something was up with Alvin…or with Alvin and the whole Carver situation.  Anthony wasn’t going to press it. “He’s just…he’s a _bad man,”_ Carlos echoed Pete’s sentiments. There was an awkward silence. There it was again…that omnipresent silence. It was always there, whether you noticed it or not. It was easily observable now, and it was screaming.

            Luke finally straightened his posture. “I’m gonna go talk to Nick,” was all he said. A lot seemed to be on the kid’s mind. All things considered, Anthony could understand that. There was a group of bad men chasing them, a newcomer barging into their home. These people apparently knew each other. They’d struggled together—all of them. And here came Anthony and this little girl. Anthony could understand Rebecca’s outburst and Luke’s frazzled state. Still, he appreciated the friendliness offered by Pete, Carlos, and Alvin. As Luke left the room, a girl, a bit older than Clementine with black hair and red glasses, came skipping into the room. She had complexion similar to Carlos, leaving Anthony to believe she was his daughter. When she spoke, his suspicions were confirmed.

            “Dad! Hey, da…” she trailed off at the sight of Anthony and Clementine. “Uh…” the girl almost seemed to freeze, as if in a state of… _panic._

            “It’s okay, Sarah,” Carlos said in a hushed tone, approaching the girl, Sarah, and lowering himself on one knee, placing his hands on her shoulders. “The man there is Anthony and his girl Clementine,” he turned his head back to Anthony and Clementine, then again to Sarah. “They’re friends, sweetie. Okay?”

            Sarah seemed to relax a bit, but her eyes were still wide open, darting between Anthony and Clementine. Of all things Anthony could say, he decided to tackle the least important of issues. “Uh, she’s…she’s not my kid…” _Really? Like anyone here cares whether you’re her dad or her goddamn cousin or neighbor?_

Carlos reacted to Anthony’s words similarly. “Oh…?” He seemed a bit surprised by Anthony’s affirmation that he wasn’t Clementine’s father. “Well…what are you, then?”

            Anthony struggled to find the right words. He began by just speaking the truth. “I’m…well, I’m just some g—”

            “He’s my friend,” Clementine cut in, smiling at Anthony and then at Carlos. “I wouldn’t be here if Anthony didn’t help me…but, I’ve helped him too,” she said, a shy smile still on her face. Anthony couldn’t help but smile as well. There she went, saving him again. Not from a walker, but from awkwardness.

            Pete chuckled. “Friends are good…you need friends. Now more than ever.”

            “Speaking of,” Carlos began, “Sarah, Clementine seems to be around your age. How about you show her your room?”

            Sarah, who’d been easing out of her state of panic as the other spoke, smiled at Clementine. “Okay! C’mon!” She reached forward, grabbing Clementine by the sleeve and pulling her along. Clementine looked back at Anthony, saying nothing. Was she…asking…for approval?

            Anthony looked back, not sure what to say, exactly. “Sure…go ahead,” Anthony nodded. These people seemed friendly enough, and they had a child with them. Anthony figured he could trust them. With that, Clementine smiled a bit and turned her head back to the other room that Sarah was leading her to. Anthony saw the two girls head upstairs. Sarah was speaking, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. She was probably excited to see another child. They were rare these days. He hoped Clementine was excited too.

            Alvin cleared his throat again before speaking. “I’m gonna go find Rebecca. See if she’s, y’know, cooled off.” He followed the girls upstairs to where Anthony gathered the bedrooms were. Another period of silence.

            “You gotta be hungry, Anthony,” Pete began, reaching for a box of cereal. “you said you didn’t have much food, right?” Anthony said nothing as he watched Pete pour the cereal into a bowl. It was some kind of cornflake cereal. It didn’t matter. It looked delicious even without milk. Anthony greedily shoved his hand into the bowl as Pete placed it on the counter next to him.

            “What’s your story, then?” Carlos asked, his arms crossed. His tone was curious, friendly—not prodding or investigative.

            Despite his mouth being full of cornflakes, Anthony offered an answer. “Well, I was…” he paused to chew a bit, “I was an attorney in Florida before…everything went to hell. Was on a business trip, got caught in Georgia. Stayed alive and even kept my car until a few days ago, siphoning gas and meeting up with people…never for long,” Anthony ran out of things to say. He continued to stuff his face with the cornflakes until the bowl was empty. He wanted desperately to ask for more, but didn’t want to appear rude.

            Carlos seemed somewhat shocked. His eyes narrowed as he let out a nervous chuckle. “What about your family? Wife? Were you married? Siblings?” Pete, too, was fixated on Anthony. This had been uncomfortable to explain every time he had to.

            “Ah. No. I wasn’t married, no kids. Didn’t talk to my parents too much. Maybe once or twice a year on the phone. One sibling in Los Angeles, I believe. Just out of college, last time we spoke. Guess he’d be about halfway through law school now. I think that was his plan. Shit, I don’t know.” Anthony glanced from Carlos to Pete, both of whom seemed taken aback by Anthony’s words. Of course they were. Pete had a nephew, Nick. And Carlos had Sarah. There didn’t seem to be much more to say. The men said nothing more.

            Pete broke the silence. “Help yourself to more cereal, if you’d like. Bring the box up to Clementine. She’ll probably want some.  Carlos and I should gather everyone else…try and smooth things over with them. Especially Rebecca and Nick. No way is Alvin assertive enough to talk Rebecca down.” With that, Pete and Carlos made their way upstairs. On the way up, Pete called back to Anthony. “Up the stairs, third door on your right!” Anthony nodded to confirm he understood, his mouth once again filled with cereal. He needed to save some for Clementine. He grabbed his backpack and made his way upstairs, heading to the room to which he was assigned.

            As he made his way inside, Anthony nodded his head and smiled—two twin-sized beds. _Beds! Beds!_ He plopped himself down on one of them and sprawled out, extending his arms and legs as far as he could. It felt incredible to be on a bed for the first time in…as long as he could remember. Anthony relished the moment, burying his head in the warm, soft pillow. He felt as if he was sinking into the mattress…floating. It was indescribable. Heavenly. It had been so long since he had the luxury of having resting time while awake. In this new world, if you were awake, you were struggling. Yet here he was: awake and relaxing. Glorious. He could hear everyone talking in one of the other rooms across the hall—not well, but he could hear them. He heard Luke and Nick. They must have made their way upstairs from the porch. The conversation sounded heated, but Rebecca wasn’t screaming. That had to be a good thing.

            Anthony reached into his backpack, grabbing the radio he found in Troy’s jeep. He turned it on. Static. Just static. That made sense. He was surprised the thing even still had power, but he wasn’t going to complain. He lowered the volume a bit and set the radio on the nightstand between the two beds, listening to the static while staring at the ceiling. Anything was better than silence—besides the muffled fight that was taking place in the other room.

 

…

 

Anthony had been staring for a while—a few hours, to be sure. Not sleeping, not thinking. Just enjoying the calmness and the white noise generated by the radio. His meditation was interrupted by Clementine walking into the room, taking a look around. She smiled at Anthony. “Hey, Anthony,” she waved.

“Hey there. How was visiting with Sarah?”

“It was good. She’s friendly. _Really_ friendly,” Clementine said, as if to mean Sarah was “too friendly.”

Anthony chuckled. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Here, have some cereal,” he pointed to the box.

            Clementine’s eyes brightened as she saw the food. She lowered her hand into the box, taking more than a handful of the cornflakes and shoving it into her mouth, individual flakes falling all over the floor. Anthony smiled. It made him happy to see her so content. Her mouth filled with cereal, Clementine excitedly approached Anthony while reaching into her backpack. “Guess what I found?” she asked through her mouthful with some difficulty.  She pulled out a small, instant polaroid camera.

            “Look at that,” Anthony continued to smile. “That’s something. Does it work?”

            “Yeah! Sarah and I were taking pictures! Here, let’s take a selfie,” Clementine offered, swallowing the mouthful of cereal.

            _A selfie?_ “Uh, isn’t a selfie what teenagers did with…cell phones?” Anthony wasn’t too keen on social trends, especially those of people twenty years younger than he was, but he’d heard of “selfies.”

            Clementine smiled sheepishly. “Well, yes…but I never had a cell phone. And I never was a teenager…”

            Anthony chuckled. “True and true. Well, that’s all the convincing I need. Okay, let’s…uh, take a selfie?” With that, Clementine jumped next to Anthony, holding the camera out in front of them both.

            “Say cheese!” she yelled excitedly as she snapped the picture. The flash was near-blinding, but the result came out pretty good. They were both smiling, neither blinked.

            “Looks pretty good, huh?” Anthony remarked.

            “Yeah!” Clementine nodded, placing the picture into her backpack with the picture of Lee and the drawing of Kenny and his family. Did he mean that much to her to have his picture be placed along with Lee’s and Kenny’s? He felt as if he had been inducted into a hall of heroes of some kind. He was about to comment on it when Clementine spoke up. “They’re making us an early dinner, Pete said. He said it’d be ready soon, and he wanted me to get you. The pregnant woman…she still scares me. Everyone else seems pretty nice, though. Even the guy with the red hat, Nick. I think he was just scared.”

            Anthony nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I think so too. We’re all scared, really. Well, I’ll be down in a few seconds. Been laying here a while. Gotta stretch and all that, you know.” He gave Clementine a playful push. “Go on now, I’ll see you all downstairs in just a bit.” With that, Clementine exited the room with a spring in her step. It warmed Anthony’s heart, seeing her excited like this.

            As Anthony yawned and began to stretch, a shiver ran down his spine as he heard a familiar voice coming from the radio—two familiar voices. He leaned over the bed, quickly snatching the radio in his hands and turning up the volume. A cold sweat was quickly upon him and his eyes widened. _Oh no._

            “Yeah, idiot didn’t take off the tracker. Jeep was crashed into a tree. They made it pretty far.” It was Troy’s voice.

            Then the deeper, huskier voice. “I’m close, too.  You track them from there?”

            “Yep…and you’ll be pleased with what I found, I bet. A house. And that fuckup kid with the camo pants sittin’ on the patio,”

            “You’re fuckin’ kidding me…” the huskier voice responded. “Rebecca _and_ the bastard that stole my car in one place, huh?”

            “Looks like it.”

            “Enter in on the house. Butter ‘em up for me. You pull this off, you won’t have to sleep outside after all.”

            “Hell yeah. You got it. See you soon.”

_Oh no._


	7. Chapter 6: I Thought You Were Dead

The nausea hit like a brick wall. Anthony almost vomited right there. He couldn’t, though. He had to do _something._ But what? Grab Clementine and run? Where? The house was apparently surrounded by armed men—the men after this whole group. And so was Anthony now. Shit. Shit. Shit! Anthony darted towards the door of the bedroom. “Clementine! Pete! Hey, Pete!” he yelled as he made his way down the stairs.

            Everyone was there, sitting in the living room. Rebecca and Alvin in the back, probably arguing. Everyone else besides the kids were either sitting or standing around a table in the middle of the room. Sarah and Clementine were sitting on the floor in a corner, drawing it looked like. Everyone stared at Anthony as he stood on the staircase, eyes wide with fear.

            “Anthony…what’s wrong?” Clementine got to her feet, her eyes wide too. She had to have seen the fear in Anthony’s eyes. Hell, everyone probably did.

            Pete got to his feet—he’d been sitting in one of the chairs. “Yeah, Anthony. What’s goin’ on?” He crossed his arms, a look of worry crossing his face.

            Anthony panicked and began to stammer. “I…erm. Uh. Aw, fuck!” Everyone stiffened at Anthony’s expletive. “They’re…here. The people who’re after you. They somehow tracked the car I stole and—”

            “You son of a bitch!” Rebecca cut him off, pointing her finger at Anthony. He could almost feel it pressed against him. The rage in her voice shook him almost as much as the news about Troy and Carver. “You fucking led them to us? You’re with them, aren’t you!? You piece of shit!”

            “It ain’t this fella’s fault, Rebecca!” Pete yelled back.

            “Daddy, what’s going on?” Sarah looked over to Carlos, a look of sheer panic on her face. Before anyone else could respond, there was a noise. The sound of the front door being kicked in.

            It was the first time Anthony had heard Troy’s voice up close and in person. “Now y’all go, now! Every nook and cranny. They may be hidin’.” It didn’t take Troy long to realize that wasn’t the case. He was the one to come into the main room, along with another armed man behind him. Young guy—looked younger than Troy. “Well shit,” Troy spat, “y’all ain’t makin’ this too hard on us, now. Are ya?” He smiled and raised his gun, aiming from person to person. Anthony was still on the staircase, watching the scene unfold. Troy didn’t seem to notice him yet. Probably because he—

            “Well, well,” Troy chuckled, finally noticing Anthony’s presence. _Fuck!_ Anthony instinctively raised his arms above his head as Troy pointed his rifle at Anthony’s chest. “You’re the only new face I see ‘round here. I’m bettin’ you’re the one who stole my car, huh? Ain’t that right?” Troy smiled vindictively at Anthony. Apparently he was actually awaiting a response.

            Anthony gulped. Again, no saliva. His throat was dry, and he almost coughed as he forced a swallow. “I—I have a kid with—”

            “Do I look like I give a shit?” Troy snarled.

            “Well. Uh. I mean. I don’t know?”

            “I don’t, fuckwad.”

            Anthony remained silent for a moment before continuing. He was choosing his words as carefully as possible. Clementine and Sarah were in the corner. Anthony made quick eye contact with Clementine and nodded slightly, as if to say things would be okay. He didn’t know if they would be. “Yeah. I…stole your car. But I sincere—”

            “Cut the shit!” Troy barked. Just as he did, at least two more people entered through the front door, their footsteps already making their way towards the room.

            Anthony had never heard the voice in person, but he immediately knew who it was. Everyone seemed to. They turned violently as the man spoke from the other room. “Where are they? You got ‘em all?” It had to be Carver.

            The other man in the room, not Troy, cocked his head to the side. “In here!” was all he said.  What more was there to say?

            Finally, he entered the room. He wasn’t qute what Anthony had been expecting. He wasn’t extremely muscular. He wasn’t that tall. He looked like a…just a guy. Just a guy. That’s all any of them were anymore. Normal fucking people. That was the scariest part.  Well, maybe this guy wasn’t normal. Looks could be deceiving. The man grimly smiled. “Well done, Troy, Johnny. You even got them all into one room for me,” he approached the center table of Luke, Nick, Pete, and Carlos. “How are you fellas doing?” he asked, the cold smile remaining on his lips. “Thought you were outside, Nick,” he noted in a seemingly mocking manner.

            Only Pete said anything, and it seemed out of character for the older man. “Fuck you, Bill,” he looked up, and his eyes met Carver’s.  Both Nick and Luke shot a nervous look at Pete. Carlos remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground.

            Carver got down on his knees, making himself even with the still-sitting Pete. The smile faded. Never a good sign.  Before Anthony could even register what had happened, Carver knocked Pete out cold. A straight punch to the face. Jesus Christ.

            “Daddy!” Sarah shrieked, her eyes filled with panic. Carlos didn’t say anyting, which surprised Anthony a little bit. He thought for sure he’d want to say something to comfort her—maybe he was afraid of getting hit like Pete.

            Apparently Carver thought the same as Anthony, though, as he stood once more and stared at Carlos, as if expecting something. “Well,” he began, crossing his arms. “Aren’t you gonna tell your little girl it’s going to be okay? C’mon, Carlos…tell her daddy’s here. Tell her nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His tone was light, almost sing-songy. There was a disconcerting joy in the man’s eyes as he told Carlos to ensure his daughter all would be okay. This was like something out of a horror movie. Carlos said nothing—he just kept staring at the ground. Everyone—everything—was silent. Damn silence. Finally, Carver’s tone changed. It became ominous, almost threatening. “Do it,” he spat through gritted teeth.

            Carlos took note in the severity in Carver’s voice. He looked up at Sarah and sighed, knowing he was playing into the man’s hands. “Sweetie, everything is going to be okay.” That was it. Hollow words. Carlos knew it, Carver knew it. Anthony knew it.

            “Was that so hard?” Carver grinned and made his way over to Sarah. He was about to say something when his eyes met Clementine’s. A look of puzzlement flashed across his face, but he concealed it quickly. “And who’re you, little lady?” Clementine said nothing. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung half-open in fear. “Did _you_ steal my jeep? If so, I’m not even mad,” Carver chuckled.

            Thankfully, Clementine didn’t have to answer. Troy, who was still standing closest to the staircase, perked up and turned. “Nope, this flabby fuck did though,” he gestured with his head towards Anthony.

            Carver seemed visibly upset with Troy—annoyed was probably a better word. “Really, Troy? You’re telling me it wasn’t this ten year old? My god, she had me fooled!” he snarled as he approached Troy and Anthony. He shook his head at Troy. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you’re a fucking idiot, Troy.” Even though Troy had a gun trained on Anthony, he couldn’t help but feel for the guy. This Carver didn’t seem like a nice man to work for by any stretch. Still, Anthony said nothing and remained very still. Carver finally turned his attention to Anthony. “Good work, I gotta tell you. Not many people steal from me and get away with it.” He paused and chuckled. “Well, I guess you’re not really getting away with it, are you?” He stared at Anthony a moment before grunting to himself. “You got a name?”

            Anthony’s eyes widened a bit and his tongue immediately thickened. “I—uh, yeah. Anthony. My name is Anthony. And sir, uh, Mr. Carver? Look, I really, _really_ didn’t mean anything by it…I…” Anthony trailed off for a moment. He wasn’t expecting for Carver to let him try to explain himself, yet here he was doing just that. Anthony cautiously, slowly continued. “So…yeah, I was with her,” he gestured to Clementine with his head, not wanting to make sudden movements with his arms, “and we were stuck on the highway. We saw your guys with their jeeps, and they left it. Keys in the ignition. We needed it…” he ended his explanation rather sheepishly.

            Carver stood, smiling with his eyes as Anthony spoke. He seemed entertained. After Anthony finished speaking, Carver said nothing for a while, filling the room with tense silence. Finally, he warmly smiled—which unsettled Anthony—and sighed. “Like stealing candy from a baby, huh? Yeah, my guys aren’t always the brightest.” He shot a grim smile at Troy before looking back to Anthony. “You were desperate, and you did what you had to do. Hell, I’d do it too. So I’ll make you a deal. You and your little girl—what’s her name?”

            “Her name is Clementine.”

            “Clementine. That’s not a common name. Pretty name, though,” Carver grinned. “You and Clementine come with us back to my people, and no hard feelings about the jeep. How’s that sound, huh?”

            Troy jerked his head towards Carver. “The _fuck?_ This guy stole your jeep and you’re just gonna—”

            Carver slowly turned his head towards Troy and stared at him, but said nothing. The stare wasn’t even directed at him, but it sent chills down Anthony’s spine. Troy immediately looked down at the ground like a child being reprimanded. Carver looked back at Anthony, once again smiling. No way was that genuine. “So, do we have a deal? You come back with us, you get food and protection. Hell, even get to brush your teeth and get a change of clothes.”

            There wasn’t much of an alternative. Anthony slowly nodded his head as he glanced at Clementine. Her expression hadn’t really changed. She probably hadn’t even been registering what was going on. Anthony nodded again, this time more determined. “Okay,” was all he said.

            “Great!” Carver exclaimed. He looked around the room, eyeing everyone for the first time. As he was doing so, he barked an order to his men. “Tie their hands and get ‘em all in the truck…except _him._ He rides with me _.”_ He pointed at Alvin.

            Rebecca, who had been next to Alvin, took a step towards Carver. “Bill! No! No!”

            “It’s okay, baby. I’ll…be okay,” Alvin gently placed his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder as two of Carver’s men approached him. Anthony didn’t know Alvin at all, and his wife had been a real bitch to him thus far, making his next action particularly stupid.

            “Bill!” Anthony shouted. Carver froze, obviously surprised by Anthony’s exclamation. He slowly turned back to Anthony, his expression one of impatience, but not necessarily anger.

            “Yes, Anthony?” His eyes, in particular, were intense. Anthony could almost feel Carver’s gaze burning right through him.

            “He rides in the truck with everyone else. Or our deal is off.” What the hell? Anthony immediately regretted this inexplicable demonstration of selflessness. What leverage did he have? Jesus Christ.

            Carver smiled—this time genuinely. He chuckled and nodded at Anthony. “That took guts…wow, there, Anthony. Look at you, bossin’ around a guy who’s got a dozen armed guards with him. Well fucking done.” Carver mockingly clapped for a moment. The room was tense—no one else quite knew what to do. “Have it your way,” he continued. “You win. Alvie goes with you in the truck.” He turned and walked out of the room, stepping over Pete as he just regained consciousness.

            The guards quickly went to work binding everyone’s wrists—including the children’s. Clementine was silent, but Anthony could see the panic in her eyes as one of the guys—Johnny—bound her wrists. At least it didn’t look painful. “Get on down here,” Troy snapped. Anthony slowly made his way down the staircase and put his arms behind his back, remaining silent. “You think you can jus’ flap yer gums and Carver’s gonna listen, huh? Yeah?” Troy spat as he went to work on Anthony’s wrists. “Well lemme tell ya, you got a long road to hoe, piece of shit,” he continued to grumble.

            “If it’s any consolation,” Anthony began, “I swear I didn’t expect for it to work.”

            That wasn’t a good idea. “Shut the _fuck up!”_ Troy screamed. It was the last thing Anthony heard before felt the butt of Troy’s gun make contact with the back of his head.

            Then nothing.

 

…

 

 

            “It’s not awful. Bruised. But not awful.” Anthony recognized the voice as Carlos’. He shook his head and slightly opened his eyes. “He’s waking up,” Carlos flatly added. He was standing over Anthony, doing his best to assess his health without use of his hands.

            “Anthony!” Clementine ran over and kneeled over him. “Are you okay? That man, Troy…he hit you. I thought he killed you, but Carlos told me you were just knocked out.” She smiled a bit and wrapped her arms around a still confused and disoriented Anthony.

            “Bill did the same to me,” Pete casually added from across the room. “But I guess you saw that, huh?” Anthony couldn’t see Pete while he was still lying on the floor, but he nodded and faked a chuckle. His head hurt like hell. Suddenly, and without warning, the entire room _jumped._ Or…shook. Anthony’s head jerked upward for a second and then slammed back onto the floor. Fuck! Were they in a…oh, that’s right. A truck. Anthony slowly sat up, glancing around the truck. Everyone was sitting around the perimeter, with Anthony in the middle. Well, now Anthony and Clementine. Carlos, Sarah, Pete, Nick, Luke, Alvin, Rebecca…all in a semi-circle around an unconscious Anthony. Before Anthony could say anything, Alvin spoke up.

            “Hey, man. Thanks for that. I don’t know what Bill’d be doing to me if I was riding with him. And, shit, he listened to you. God knows why, but I’m glad he did,” he smiled at Anthony, and Anthony nodded in return, without smiling. He was still out of it, and truth be told he still didn’t know what possessed him to vouch for Alvin like that.

            To Anthony’s surprise, Rebecca spoke up next. “Yeah…thanks, Anthony. Really.” She forced a smile, but Anthony returned with a look of confusion. This was the woman who wanted to _kill_ him back at the house, and here she was acting like that didn’t happen. He wasn’t about to question it, though.

            “So,” Anthony finally spoke, “where are we headed? Where’s this guy’s ‘camp’?”

            Luke was the first to respond, though it looked like everyone was about to chime in. “Howe’s Hardware. Big department store, they’re expanding it, too. We’ll, uh, be sleepin’ outside, I’m bettin’.”

            “God dammit,” Nick buried his head in his hands. “You’re right. And Mike’s a dick…and that woman with the short hair and walker guts—she’s fucking _weird.”_

            Pete managed a chuckle, despite the circumstances. “I forgot about her…Christ, walkin’ around outside covered in guts. Disgusting!”

            Sarah turned to Carlos. “Will there be anyone new there? Since we were last there, I mean?” Her voice was almost excited—maybe she was hoping for more children.

            Carlos said nothing, as Luke answered before he could. “Oh I bet!” It was clear he was trying to remain positive. “I bet there’s new people for you and Clementine to play with for sure,” he looked over to Clementine and smiled. Anthony appreciated Luke’s attempts at remaining positive. He was glad someone could do it, because God knew he couldn’t.

            The rest of the ride passed with little incident. Anthony had made his way to the end of the semi-circle with Clementine, next to Carlos. Anthony’s mind was truly blank as the truck moved along through the day. Or night. No way to tell from the inside.

            After maybe an hour, Clementine yawned and rested her head on Anthony’s shoulder and soon was able to, miraculously, fall asleep. Anthony was stunned—and envious. He was never able to sleep in moving vehicles, especially after he was just kidnapped by a sociopath with his hands tied. But she was out cold.

            “She thinks the world of you,” Pete said to Anthony. “I can tell. She was worried sick when you were out, and she talked a little bit about you.”

            Anthony blushed, not quite sure what to say. After all, he’d only known the girl for a few days, but they _had_ done quite a lot in that short time. “Oh, yeah? What, uh…what did she say?”

            “Said you reminded her of some guy she was with before,” Luke nodded. “A history teacher. Says you kinda talk like him, explain things the same way.”

            Anthony laughed a bit. “Well, I’m an attorney. I imagine I do explain things in a way similar to a history professor. But, I mean, that guy—Lee was his name, I think—he was with her for months. Saved her…taught her to shoot a gun and everything. I haven’t done…anything like that.”

            “Not what she said,” Alvin interjected. “She said when some bandits were attacking a woman you were with, you grabbed her and saved her form ‘em. Did as the woman asked and kept her safe.” Alvin warmly smiled at Anthony. “You said you weren’t a dad before this…are you _sure?”_ he jokingly asked, before continuing. “You defended her from some creep on the road, she says. And you stole that jeep with her and she said you talked to her about some book with talking trees…?”

            Anthony nodded and smiled. “Yeah, _Inferno._ By Dante. The poem…you know?” Only Carlos and Luke nodded, everyone else blankly stared at Anthony. “I was just talking to her about a passage that involved suicide and…” he trailed off, realizing how strange this sounded to everyone.

            “Suicide!?” Carlos spat at Anthony. “She’s just a little girl!”

            Anthony thought for a moment about Carlos’ concerns. Finally, though, he looked at the man and shook his head. “No. She’s not.”

 

…

 

            Finally, after several more hours, the truck came to a halt. Voices outside. The truck’s front door slammed. More voices. Troy’s, Carver’s. Clementine rubbed her eyes and looked around, and then at Anthony. She was worried. “Shh, shh. It’s alright.” Anthony whispered. Just as he finished talking, the doors opened. Troy stood at the entrance to the truck, glowering. No one said a word, and everyone inside the truck remained sitting, staring.

            “Well, c’mon!” Troy demanded, his voice cracking. Everyone slowly got to their feet and exited the truck to find Carver armed with a revolver.

            Carver smiled at everyone. “Welcome back! And to you, Anthony and Clementine, welcome home. I sent Johnny to escort a particularly rowdy resident back to his bed. He hasn’t learned how to cooperate yet…thick skull and all that. So Troy and I will escort you to where you’ll be staying.”

            The group moved along, followed by Troy and Carver. It was a big store, and the truck had already taken them inside the walls they’d set up. This place actually looked secure. What the hell were these people running from? This seemed great! Anthony would agree to sleep outside in exchange for food and protection. There were piles—piles—of food: canned goods, mostly, but it looked like they were growing berries too. Fresh fruit! And armed guards as far as Anthony could see—this place was heaven!

            Finally, they reached a door on the other end of the building that led to an area surrounded by a fence with some tables, chairs, and bunk beds. It was chilly, but there was a trashcan for burning a fire. Anthony looked around the area to see four people. First, a man in a sleeping bag on the far end near the fence. Anthony couldn’t see much of him. Next, a man with darker skin who was missing an arm. He was standing at attention, as if he was expecting them. Anthony glanced over to one of the tables to see a woman with short hair simply staring at them—her face was covered in…God knows what. Maybe that was the woman who rubbed walker guts all over herself. Finally, there was a woman at another table with a nose piercing. It was dark, but it looked like she had darker hair and skin as well, but Anthony couldn’t be sure. The rest of the group probably knew these people, and Anthony would meet them soon enough.

            As Troy began freeing everyone’s hands, Carver again addressed the group. “This is where you’ll be staying, at least for now. Most of you remember this place, I’m sure. You’ve got two new faces.” Carver pointed to the woman with the nose piercing. “That’s Sarita. Her… _man…_ has listening problems, but he’s on his way back now. Troy will be joining you out here, since he decided to unnecessarily whack Anthony in the back of the head.”

            Troy spun around, visibly shocked by what Carver had just said. “You—what? You’re kiddin’ me!”

            Carver shrugged, his face emotionless. “No. I’m not. You can keep guard on them out here. I’m not taking your gun away. You’re not exempt from the rules, Troy.” Carver turned again to address the group as a whole, which now included Troy. “We’ll get started tomorrow. Get some rest—you’ll need it.” And with that, Carver turned and headed back inside.

            Troy was staring at the ground, humiliated in front of his own prisoners. It was only when he noticed everyone was staring at him. “Well go on! Get on to sleep! You heard him!” But before anyone could do much of anything, they heard the shouts coming from inside the store.

            “Get your hands off me, motherfucker! I will—I swear to God! Y’ain’t gonna do _shit._ Go on, I fuckin’ dare you! No, you ain’t gonna do anything!”

            A concerned expression grew on Anthony’s face as the voice approached. It was clearly a resident being escorted by a guard—possibly that Johnny kid. “There’s the guy Bill was talkin’ about,” Troy shrugged, still irritated.

            Anthony looked over to Clementine, but her demeanor surprised him. She was… _smiling._ What was she smiling at? Not only that, but she was smiling right at the door, as if she was excited for whoever was on the other side.

            The shouting continued. “I swear to God I will not hesitate to…don’t fucking test me—I’ll—” The doors swung open, and there stood the man, with Johnny struggling to hold one of his arms. Anthony had never seen the man before, yet somehow he just…he _knew_ who he was.

            The man stared at Clementine, and Clementine at him for a moment that felt like eternity. Both of their eyes were extremely wide, but neither spoke for the longest time. Everyone was silent.

Finally, Clementine opened her mouth to speak. “I thought you were dead.”

           

           

           


End file.
